


Clouds Like These

by drurie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Female Draco Malfoy, Genderbending, M/M, Polyjuice Potion, probably some light weasley bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1589759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drurie/pseuds/drurie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick series of misunderstandings leads to the biggest one of all: Malfoy thinking Harry's the one who hexed him into a girl. Harry most certainly will not stand for such blame; and he will also not stand for such maltreatment of an innocent of war. Saint Potter's insufferable hero complex could be the death of him or the start of something new. Drarry, one-sided Harry/Ginny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disgraceful

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A revamp of one of the very first Drarry fics I ever wrote. I was probably 13, 14 then? So it was really quite immature sounding (insert nervous laugh). I took it off the web a few years ago because the way I wrote it made me cringe. It came into my mind recently again though and I decided it was worth a shot at rework. Thanks for reading, as always!

Harry looked at the huge castle in front of him. He could see at his left Hagrid ushering the first years onto the boat and he heard the Thestrals breathe heavily behind him. Ron and Hermione stood beside him with their bags.

He felt Ginny sneak her hand into his.

He even saw a flash of blonde hair through the crowds of senior students.

And this was how everything should be, right? Defeating the Dark Lord at 17 and returning himself and everyone else, including his former arch-nemesis, to school the following year. He was going to complete his education, get a (hopefully boring) job at the Ministry, marry Ginny, start a family and die a peaceful certain death in the distant future.

He smiled.

It was good to have life so predictable.

* * *

Life seemed to have turned the other way for Malfoy though, Harry observed as they entered the Great Hall. He was still as arrogant as ever, but Harry could tell that he was more edgy than he wanted to appear. Malfoy sat at the corner of the Slytherin table, one foot out of the table's leg as if ready to run at any moment. His old cronies, Zabini and Parkinson, had chosen not to return to Hogwarts. The other Slytherins, especially the young ones, shot him dirty looks every now and then. They sat a vast distance away from him, such that he was a clear lone figure on an entire stretch of table.

Beside him, Harry heard Ron and Ginny guffaw at Malfoy's predicament. Hermione gave Ron a reprimanding look but said nothing to shut him up. Harry felt his heart plummet a little as he realised that Malfoy looked _lonely_.

Throughout the Sorting Ceremony, he stared at the blond who had his head down the whole time. Harry ventured a guess that he was trying to compose himself. Social rejection was definitely _not_ a Malfoy thing. When the food appeared, Malfoy scooped as much food as quickly as he could and ate it as fast as his grace would allow. He was finished by the time Harry was done transferring his own portion of meal to his plate. Harry's eyes never left him as he watched Malfoy prissily neaten his robes before stalking out of the hall. He wasn't sure if that later loud sniff from outside came from the blonde.

Ginny leaning against his shoulder lovingly shook him back to reality. There was a lot of blabber around him, and he knew not all of it was friendly talk. He could see the Slytherins sneering amongst each other and tossing their hair the way Malfoy used to. He heard Ginny and Ron laugh beside him again.

Harry's heart clenched unpleasantly and his brain did a nervous whir at his heart's decision: to protect or even befriend Draco Malfoy. _Bad idea if you want a normal year,_ his brain advised.

But if the wizarding world was unable to look past former grudges and an enemy who didn't really want to be an enemy, what good was winning that war? He politely excused himself early from the table and headed back to the dorms early.

He saw Ginny's crestfallen expression but he tried not to let that waiver him.

He did not catch the curious gaze of one of his other housemates, though.

* * *

Harry continued keeping a close eye on Malfoy as they had many classes together. Since most of the 7th year Slytherins had chosen to continue their education elsewhere, the classes were dominated by the other three houses. Malfoy was a perpetual solitary figure, always sitting at the front desk by himself. He was the first to enter and leave, but made an effort to be one of the most active participants in class. Unfortunately that won him little favour from the professors who took more favourably to Hermione (despite her incessant jumping-out-of-her-seat-to-answer act for the whole duration of class). At the back of his mind he wondered how Malfoy coped with this treatment, given that his father could no longer hear about that (for at least five years). Perhaps Narcissa's constant gifting of sweets at breakfast was his only source of encouragement.

Still, that was pitiful.

He watched Malfoy enter the library instead of heading down for lunch and made another mental note of his schedule. Harry caught himself hoping slightly wistfully over lunch that Malfoy at least still played Quidditch. He was a good opponent on the field.

As if reading his mind, Ron suddenly asked, "D'you think that ferret's still gonna be on the team this year?"

Harry almost dropped his sandwich in surprise at the question and his mouth dropped open. A portion of ham probably fell out onto the ground. He shut it immediately at Hermione's raised eyebrow.

"Don't be silly, Ron. His own house doesn't even want him at their dinner table," Ginny rolled her eyes and leaned against Harry, running a hand up his arm. Harry breathed nervously, hating the thought of anyone who wasn't entirely guilty having to suffer non-acceptance after the war. Not understanding, Ginny grinned as if she were the source of his embarrassment. Hermione continued staring at him rather thoughtfully.

"Y-yeah, probably not," he ducked his head in discomfort and continued nibbling at his sandwich. As he finished his last bite, he decided that he would check out the Slytherin seeker tryouts tomorrow.

* * *

The air was frigid the following morning when Harry trudged to the stands. It had been nearly impossible to shrug Ginny off from his body after breakfast. When he finally managed to, he simply muttered something to his friends about needing fresh air and sprinted out of the castle. Now he was here back on the stands of the Quidditch field, he felt at ease. He smiled broadly and leant back, closing his eyes for a while. That was, until a nasal voice broke the silence.

"Smiling at the clouds today are we, Potter? Better zip up that _pathetic_ jacket of yours before you catch a nasty cold."

Harry jerked ungraciously forward, unconsciously hugging his jacket tightly around his body as he opened his eyes to see Malfoy already strolling away toward the field, latest broom in hand.

"Malfoy!" he gasped out before he could stop himself.

He didn't expect Malfoy to turn around, but he did. It was a slow cautious gaze back, as if Malfoy were expecting a hex to his face. The blond boy stood unmoving, questioning Harry with his silence.

"I- er- all the best for the tryouts later," Harry finished lamely. He gritted his teeth and thought about how he could be back in the warm tower drinking hot chocolate with friends and Ginny curled around his arm.

_Stupid hero instinct._

Malfoy cocked his head and it looked as if he was trying his best not to curl his lip in a derisive sneer. He smoothly replied as he straightened his back, "Thank you Potter, but I won't be trying out for the team. Surely you already know how the others consider me."

Harry blinked in surprise and he heard Malfoy comment dryly, "Everything surprises you nowadays, doesn't it, Potter?"

"Um no, I've observed that," Harry licked his lips out of nervousness, "Then, er, what are you doing here with a broom in your hand?"

Harry wasn't sure if that was a _beam_ on Malfoy's face.

"Well I'm here to fly for a while, of course."

And with that, Malfoy turned away and took to the skies with his broom. He twisted elegantly in the wind and accelerated and went higher and higher till he was just a bright glowing spot in the early morning sky. He swiveled around like a hawk and pulled off stunts of such skill that made it look like he had never missed a day of practice.

Harry wanted to stay and watch, but he figured that he had embarrassed himself and didn't need to further humiliate himself by sitting here like some shameless fanboy. He zipped up his jacket and strode swiftly back to the castle. He thought he heard a snigger back at the stands. He didn't turn back in case it was Malfoy or a Slytherin who overheard their exchange.

* * *

"I'm headed to the library today," Harry said to his friends after Defence Against the Dark Arts, "Falling behind on work and all that, don't need to save me lunch."

"Don't be such a Hermione, Harry," Ron snickered as Hermione hit his arm in fake indignation, "We'll do that essay after dinner, now c'mon! Don't you want to see Ginny? Think she's already down at the lake waiting for her boyfriend."

Harry felt a jolt of guilt at that last statement. He and Ginny _weren't_ officially dating yet, but he probably was leading her on by not rejecting her physical contact. He had figured a few days ago that he probably still was interested in her somewhat, but he wasn't ready at the moment for the amount of commitment she seemed to demand.

"Ron, you know we're not dating yet," Harry flatly stated, "I'll do the essay and we can have a good time bumming around tonight, okay? I just want it out of my head."

His friend sighed in disappointment and was about to argue back when Hermione shook her head. Ron fell silent like a tamed animal. Despite himself, Harry grinned at Hermione and gave her a thumbs-up as Ron scowled.

"It's good to see that you're putting in the effort to get good grades, Harry," Hermione offered a smile, "We'll catch you at Potions later then."

Harry nodded and had to control himself from running toward the library. He was just curious about where Malfoy went and what he did in his spare time, nothing harmful. He only wanted to make sure Malfoy was having a bearable time while he was awake.

Walking silently and slowly down the aisles, he scanned the tables for a sign of pale blond hair. And there it was, at the very end of the library, alone and by the brightest window. Malfoy was bent over his parchment with at least five books next to him. He was scribbling furiously with his quill, his pointed features scrunched up in concentration and a hand against his forehead.

Harry kept very still, hoping that he was sufficiently shrouded by the shadows of the towering bookshelves. He didn't know how long he stood there, but it was long enough to see Malfoy finish his essay and take a nap with his head atop the books. He saw a bunch of young Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs point and giggle at the dozing Malfoy. He was slightly enraged by the immature display but he knew better than to confront them.

Then the bell sounded and Malfoy stirred from his slumber. Harry suddenly realised how hungry he was and the explaining he'd had to do tonight to Hermione about his unwritten essay. He groaned to himself and sneaked away before Malfoy rubbed away the sleep from his eyes.

* * *

"Ginny was so disappointed that you didn't turn up, mate, I thought she was going to _cry_ or something," Ron had commented sternly as Harry joined them to enter Potions class.

And now Harry wondered if the whole of Hogwarts (or the class at least) was disappointed with his choice of Potions partner today.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Malfoy gave him a sweeping gaze. He thought Malfoy was going to acknowledge his presence next to him by blasting him with a snarky remark, but the boy simply turned his head toward the professor's desk. The curious murmuring and tittering coming from the back of the class ever since he had sat down next to Malfoy was growing louder. His temper flared and he whipped his head around, daring his classmates to question him directly. Most of them fell silent quickly and stared at him with wide eyes. Ron had confusion splashed all over his face. Hermione did too, but she abruptly hid it when Harry looked at her. She signaled at him to calm down and face the professor. He gladly did so.

"I don't need your help, Potter," Malfoy whispered, a faint blush tinged across his face. He chopped the Mandrake roots with slightly more viciousness than Harry thought they required.

"It's nice to have company once in a while though, isn't it?" Harry indignantly queried as he took the cut roots and ground them with the pestle. Malfoy stiffened at that question and made a strangled sound that was caught between a sniff and a snort.

Despite the awkward silence that ensued, the preparation and brewing of the potion between them was excellent. Harry was silently happy that Malfoy wasn't throwing a fuss about him. By the end of the class, they were the pair with the clearest purple potion. Slughorn proudly swirled it around in its flask, holding it up into the light as he commended it loudly in front of the class. Harry could imagine the look of dismay on Hermione's face and he snickered to himself.

Sure enough, she strode up anxiously to the front when class ended.

"How did you get that shade of purple? All Ron and I got was a muddy blue!"

Harry, who didn't know a thing, just shrugged and looked down at his feet, scratching his arm.

"You probably just added a milligram too much bat wing," Malfoy responded, probably with as much courtesy as he could muster. Not expecting him to reply her, Hermione gaped at him before recomposing herself. She then looked at Harry like a trapped deer, as if asking him what to say in return. Harry just frowned and gave her a "where's your manners" look. Hermione nodded and swiftly said, "Thank you for your input, Mal-Draco."

Malfoy seemed to snap at that. He snarled at the pair of them as he chucked his books into his bag. He swung it ferociously around his shoulder, almost slapping Harry across the face with it, and quickly headed out of the classroom. Hermione stood there in stunned silence and Harry distantly heard Ron said something along the lines of "fucking ferret". He wasn't sure because he found himself chasing desperately after a fuming Malfoy down the now empty corridor.

"Malfoy, wait up!"

"What? What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy snapped, whirling around angrily, "I don't need your pity! I don't want it! Go find your red-headed weasel of a girlfriend or something, just leave me the hell alone, _scarface_! "

Harry took the chance to run up toward him.

"Look Malfoy, I just thought that the others weren't giving you a fair chance…" he said, out of breath and falling all over his words.

"And so you thought it would be okay for you to impose your friendliness and friends upon _me_?" Malfoy hissed, drawing himself up to his proud stance though he was still shorter than Harry.

" _No_ , you git, I just wanted to make sure you're okay, because-"

"And how do you do that? By _stalking_ me and watching me sleep in the library? By observing me fly every other morning? By sitting in front of a class with me because your hero complex can't just _go away_?"

Harry, shocked at having been found out, was going to ask how Malfoy knew all that. But he never had the chance to as he was shot forcefully down the hallway by a spell Malfoy cast.

" _I don't want your pity, Potter!"_ Malfoy snarled again.

Harry dipped his head and was about to throw his hands up in acceptance and defeat when he saw a bright light flash from behind him. It threw Malfoy down against the ground with a sickening thud and he heard Malfoy cry out in pain. He turned dizzily around with his wand drawn; looking for the attacker but there was no one in sight.

When he turned back around, Malfoy was glaring at him with the force of a thousand burning suns. But…but his hair was long now and he was clad in a girl's uniform, and his features were more feminine and, and...(Harry's gaze dropped)…and he had _breasts_.

The spell shot by the attacker had turned Malfoy into a girl.

Harry stuttered and stammered and backed away, tripping over his robes with his wand still shaking in his clammy hand, knowing how it looked like to Malfoy; Malfoy, who was a girl but looked more like a venomous pale snake at the moment.

" _What the fuck did you do to me, Potter?_ "


	2. A Self-Spurning Chemistry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I decided to take this fic in a quite different direction from my old one; which means re-planning heh. Updating this fic may thus take a little longer because I don't want too many gaping loopholes. Thanks for waiting, hope you enjoy!

" _What the fuck did you do to me, Potter?_ "

Malfoy screamed as she lunged forward toward Harry, swinging a punch which narrowly missed his stomach. Alarmed, Harry snatched both of Malfoy's wrists, trying to hold him, no, _her,_ still.

"Let me explain," Harry hissed as Malfoy flailed furiously whilst glaring, infuriated, at him, "I _didn't_ do it-"

"Don't you fucking _lie_ to my face!" Malfoy shrieked. She was still surprisingly physically strong in this form, managing to shrug Harry off and land a convincing punch on his face. Harry sputtered as he backed down, checking to see if his nose was still intact. Malfoy towered over him, jaw set and looking ready to continue the fight.

Then footsteps sounded from behind Harry. _Many_ footsteps. The first-year classes must have just ended, and a whole lot of students were headed their way.

Malfoy's eyes widened comically, desperately not wanting to be caught by anyone in this form. Harry grabbed the chance to bring himself back on his feet. He half-considered fleeing and leaving Malfoy to deal with the crowd on her own; but looking at her pathetically petrified form, he chose to save as usual. Gripping Malfoy's arm firmly, he pulled her up a nearby staircase and hid in a cramped area behind a dusty knight and the cold stone wall. The knight startled and moved at the unwelcome intrusion of space. Harry quickly jabbed its plate suit with his wand as a threat and it fell still and silent.

When he finally caught his breath and looked at Malfoy again, he realised with a horrid pang that her eyes were watery. The bustle of the crowd still sounded all around them so all he could do was carefully lift a hand to pat her shoulder as condolence. That seemed to jolt her out of her misery immediately. She looked back up at Harry insolently, eyes shining with hate and not tears.

They stood uncomfortably in the claustrophobic space for a good while, ignoring each other. Just as Harry thought he was going to pass out from the lack of air, the last of the footsteps cleared.

"Let's go find McGonagall," Harry suggested as he shoved her gently out of the space. He breathed deeply and noisily for a while, pleased at being able to inhale fresh air again. Malfoy looked at him in disgust, wrinkling her nose as if she were observing an unwashed animal rolling around mud. When he was done, she nodded tightly. Wrapping her arms around herself self-consciously, she followed distantly behind him.

The Headmaster's office was thankfully only a few levels up from where they were. Standing in front of the statue however, Harry suddenly realised he was at a loss. He flushed slightly as he stared gormlessly at it, his mind drawing a blank as to what Professor McGonagall could possibly ever want to set as a password. Malfoy tapped her foot rapidly and impatiently against the floor, the sound echoing discomfortingly around them.

"Um, Fizzing Whizbees," Harry tried lamely. No movement.

"Honestly Potter, I knew you were dumb but I didn't know you were _this_ dumb."

If Malfoy had a nasal voice as a boy, it was even worse now that he was a girl. Her sharp tone callously scraped over Harry's ears. Despite his attempt to stifle his anger, Harry whipped around in irritation, hands balling themselves up into whitened fists.

"Since you're so clever, go give it a shot yourself, Malfoy."

Malfoy gaped at him, scandalised.

" _You're_ the one who caused this whole thing, so you're going to be the one who fixes it. I'm not doing a thing to make up for your intellectual incompetence."

"I didn't hex you and turn you into a girl! I'll have you know it is out of my own-"

"Then just get out of here! _Get out of here_ , I already told you that _I don't need your help_. I am sick of repeating myself to someone who just _insists_ on acting like a petulant child! "

" _I don't need your help,_ yeah, says the one who looked like he, I'm sorry, _she_ , was about to cry-"

"You shut your bloody mouth!" Malfoy yelled as she launched herself at him again, tackling him roughly to the ground. She threw blow after blow relentlessly at him. Harry placed his arms helplessly above his face to defend himself, hoping that he could escape this with his facial structure still in place.

" _Boys!_ "

Harry felt the weight of Malfoy shift off him as she ungraciously scrambled to her feet. Harry cautiously got back on his as Professor McGonagall strode furiously toward them. A fleeting sign of shock registered itself across her face as she got a better view of Malfoy.

"Explain yourselves," she said sternly, "Why are you two causing such a ruckus outside of my office? And for Merlin's sake, Mr Potter, did you think it was appropriate to cast such a spell on Mr Malfoy?"

Malfoy drew her back up proudly and she sniffed haughtily at Harry as if to scorn him for being caught. Harry felt anger pooling in his stomach. He seriously questioned himself as to why he thought it was a good idea to even help Malfoy with anything.

"I didn't hex Malfoy, Professor. I partnered him for Potions and that seemed to anger him for some reason. I followed him out of class to explain and he started a fight by hitting me with a spell. I was still on the floor when someone behind me shot this hex at him. I got up and turned around to see who it was but the attacker was gone. By the time Malfoy was up, all he saw the wand in my hand so he thought I _did_ it," Harry rambled anxiously.

Professor McGonagall held out her hand in anticipation. Harry passed his wand over to her without hesitation. The most recent spells he had cast – a hair flattening charm, _Reparo_ and other harmless spells drifted up into the air.

Malfoy looked gobsmacked at his innocence. Harry took his wand back gratefully.

"We'll discuss this in my office," Professor McGonagall nodded.

* * *

The bright light from Professor McGonagall's wand enveloped Malfoy's frame. It shimmered, sparkled and grew. Harry shielded his eyes with a hand as he squinted in anticipation of a male Malfoy. The radiant whiteness then exploded and consumed the room for a moment before dissipating at once. Harry blinked several times to ascertain that he had not been mistaken.

Malfoy was still a girl.

* * *

"Not possible to undo this immediately?!" Malfoy squawked. Harry winced at her ugly flailing. He remembered thinking once that Malfoy looked like a very delicate boy but it was clear from this episode that he was definitely _not_ cut out to be a girl.

"Calm yourself down, Mr Malfoy. The hex usually wears off in an hour, but it seems that the incantation was tweaked a little. I am not sure how long this will last," Professor McGonagall said, looking at her over her spectacles.

" _Calm down?_ How am I supposed to _calm down_ when my future has been utterly _ruined_!" Malfoy lamented dramatically, covering her face with her hands.

"I will arrange for separate lodging for you till we find a solution to your problem," Professor McGonagall continued, "As much as possible, please continue attending all your classes."

Malfoy froze at that statement. She blushed as she tried to explain her schoolmates' rejection of her.

"I understand, Mr Malfoy, but I do not want to disrupt your education and I am sure you do not wish to graduate late. If you run into any problems, just drop any of the professors a message and we will see to it," she said, a little sympathetically.

Malfoy stopped gesticulating and fell oddly quiet.

"The area near the old Room of Requirement has been refurbished. I will allow you to stay there for as long as this condition persists. The house-elves will bring your possessions over to you," Professor McGonagall said conclusively, "Do your best to keep up with classes, Mr Malfoy. And ask for help if you need it; it will be given."

Malfoy scowled again at that, as if she had been scalded by a huge cauldron of boiling water.

* * *

 

"I can help you out with your classes if you need it," Harry abruptly said as they stepped out of Professor McGonagall's office, "Just owl me or something if you don't want to be seen talking to me." Malfoy swivelled around and just stared tiredly at him, as if exhausted of saying that she didn't want anyone's help.

"I know you're upset, Malfoy. And so am I, with the attacker _and_ you. But you don't deserve this treatment and you don't deserve to have to hide after all that has happened," Harry moved forward.

Malfoy snorted loudly and stalked away to her new room, never looking back.

Harry stood alone in the sunlit corridor for a long time, watching her retreating back. Then he sighed and walked away in the opposite direction.

* * *

Harry did not see Malfoy in _any_ of his classes for the next two weeks. She didn't fly anymore or appear at mealtimes; she had practically vanished off the face of the castle. Harry sneaked out late at night once to check the castle grounds, but it was completely void of life – save for a furiously snogging couple and the Giant Squid's noisy splashing in the lake.

Malfoy didn't seem to _ever_ leave her room. And that oppression angered Harry.

If he ever found out who the attacker was, that person would have hell to pay.

"I haven't seen that git in _two_ weeks! You really hexed him good, didn't you, mate?" Ron gleefully clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder as he settled himself on the couch. Flames burned and crackled cheerily in the fireplace in front of them. Yet despite the warmth, Harry felt his blood run cold. His friends had not questioned him about his fight with Malfoy till now and he had hoped that they would not have noticed the disappearance of the blond.

"What hex did you use?" Ginny enquired, staring at Harry with starry eyes as she clung onto his arm, snuggling against him, "Any from the new repertoire I taught you over the summer?"

Hermione looked up curiously from her half-written essay. Harry shifted uneasily from the gaze of three pairs of eyes. It was probably safe to tell Hermione the truth, but if Ron or Ginny ever caught wind of Malfoy being hexed into a girl, the whole of Hogwarts would know within a day.

"I-er- yeah, heh," Harry murmured incoherently as he hung his head and studied his hands closely. Hermione stayed silent but the Weasley siblings roared loudly in approval. Harry quickly got up and went to bed, misery slowly seeping through him.

He _had_ to find out how Malfoy was doing.

* * *

11pm on a pitch black night; Harry hoped anxiously that the prefects wouldn't catch him out of bed outside of curfew time.

"Malfoy? Malfoy, open up," Harry whispered through the door as he rapped it. He could see light from the slit below so there was certainly someone awake inside. But there was no response.

Harry knocked on the door on and off for the next five minutes. He pressed his head tiredly against the door, wishing that that git would just open up for a second. "At least let me know you're alive," Harry said finally.

A derisive sound emitted from the other side of the door. Harry smiled grimly.

Good. If Malfoy still had his sense of arrogance, it meant that he wasn't falling apart.

Maybe he really did have an insufferable hero complex, Harry pondered to himself as he slid back into the dark Gryffindor common room. Maybe, for the first time since his birth, people really didn't need saving anymore.

Perhaps he was the only one stuck living in that chapter of history and everyone else had moved on since Voldemort's death. He tossed in bed for a while, thoughts racing around furiously and incoherently. He didn't fall asleep till much later.

* * *

He awoke to a new day the next morning with his mind as clear as the cloudless blue sky.

No more hero escapades, no more worrying about people who weren't or refused to be part of his life.

He took the initiative to hold Ginny's hand, much to Hermione's surprise and Ron and Ginny's delight. The four of them walked down to breakfast together and Harry didn't think his footsteps had ever felt lighter.

* * *

Harry was in the midst of one of his most fulfilling breakfasts and was even holding conversation with multiple schoolmates when a ratty old school owl crashed next to him. He quickly unhooked the small letter from its feet and fed it a few crumbs.

He looked up at his friends. Ron and Ginny fussed over a chocolate parcel from Mrs Weasley. Hermione was still absorbed in her latest book on American wizarding history. Swiftly, Harry fumbled and unfolded the paper under the dining table, eyes skimming through the short and hastily scribbled note.

It was note, written with stunted courtesy, from Malfoy asking him for help with Herbology.

Harry closed his eyes as he contemplated his answer. There goes last night's revelation of his new goals in life. He wrote his response on the other side of the torn parchment and tied it back to the owl's feet.

The owl hooted loudly and flew away. Harry distantly wondered if it understood enough to be bemused by this awkward correspondence between a shunned, gender-switched boy in hiding and a former hero with an identity crisis.


	3. The Susceptible Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The past week or so has been an absolute nightmare, so I really put off writing this chapter since I didn’t want my mood to affect my writing. It’s here now, though – please enjoy! Always brightens me up to know someone out there likes this piece!

Harry pelted down the dark corridor that very night, sweating with the irrational fear of being caught by that blasted cat Mrs Norris. He knocked the door to Malfoy’s room anxiously, hoping that she wouldn’t be an idiot and pull the same princess act. The door thankfully flung open immediately (with such desperation and force it almost sent Harry reeling onto the floor) and he slid in, closing and locking it firmly behind him.

“Finally Potter, I was wondering if you were _ever_ going to turn up-“Malfoy gasped, holding tatters of scroll paper that look like the remnants of torn Herbology essays.

“It’s complicated figuring out what to do when the person asking for help refused it so vehemently at first, y’know,” Harry said stoically, not in the mood for Malfoy’s fits, “So what’s up with Herbology?”

“The latest essay on that bloody what’s-its-name flower; it’s ridiculous, I can’t make sense of what the books are saying, how am I going to write _twelve_ pages on it?!” Malfoy groaned, sitting herself back on the chair, looking surprisingly undignified in her frustration. Harry raised an eyebrow at her, “By attending classes and listening to Professor Sprout?”

Malfoy snapped straight back up and glared at him. “Very funny, Potter. I’ll let you know I’ve had no problems coping with my other subjects simply by doing library readings,” she sniffed haughtily, crossing her arms. Harry thought for that moment that she looked like a snooty white cat, especially with all that torn paper on her desk.

“I don’t see you at the library ever, though?” Harry pushed on curiously, “Does your mother send books to you?”

Malfoy’s eyebrows knitted as she looked at him as if he were a daft child. “I just hand the house-elves who deliver me my meals the titles of books to collect,” she preened her hair, “And leave my mother out of this.” She said the last sentence with a little more force, her lips thin.

Harry shrugged, understanding. “Alright, let’s start discussing that essay then,” he said, moving forward.

Malfoy cocked her head at him, “Haven’t you written it? Or at least thought about it? I just need you to run me through the basics of that flower.”

Harry hung his head a little shamefully, not wanting to let Malfoy know that he still relied a lot on the brains of Hermione to get by school work.

“Well I usually start on essays the day before deadlines, it’s my uh- style,” Harry fumbled, running a hand through his hair. He was starting to regret not preparing before meeting Malfoy (or even agreeing to help at all). Malfoy sneered, as if understanding the implication behind that statement.

“Looks like you have no choice but to start on it soon; perhaps tomorrow then?” she smiled at him and Harry flinched at that unnatural sight, “Perhaps you could go consult Sprout for me or a fellow classmate?”

“Wait- what-“Harry sputtered. He was _no one’s_ house-elf. He could feel his face flushing from irritation.

“What’s in it for me?” he asked after regaining some of his composure.

“Finally thinking like a smart Slytherin, eh?” Malfoy smirked, leaning forward, “But too late. We can discuss the price later; I want to make sure what I _might_ be paying for is worth something first.”

Harry flared at being subjected to such _valuation_ but he knew better than to stick around to fight with Malfoy. Besides, the longer he stayed out, the more likely he was going to be caught for breaking curfew. He snorted irritably at Malfoy and turned to leave.

“We’ll see if I return tomorrow with help then,” Harry grinned. He saw Malfoy’s smug expression collapse as she stood up, pointing toward him and ready to shout expletives at him. But he didn’t stay to listen; he was already fast running back to his warm bed to recuperate from those stifling minutes spent with her.

* * *

 Harry cursed as he stood in a sweltering Herbology greenhouse just after breakfast the following morning. He felt nauseous from the strong smell of fertiliser and regretted cramming so much toast into his stomach at one go – but he had to so that he could quickly get away from the table before Ginny insisted that he accompany her to the lake.

He shifted slowly around the greenhouse, careful not to step on a stray tendril or inhale anything too nasty. If he had any sort of luck, hopefully he’d run into Neville. Neville had shown an even stronger interest in Herbology after the War, spending many hours tending to the plants and observing their behaviour. Sure enough, he heard scampering footsteps and hasty scribbling just up ahead from him.

“Hello Harry, can I help you with something?” Neville asked without turning around, still hunched over his notepad. A particularly viney plant was draping itself over his shoulders.

“Wait how did you know-?” Harry stammered, caught off-guard.

“Belle here flashed a light around her petals when she saw you, an unfamiliar person,” Neville chirped happily, patting the plant he called Belle gently. Belle withdrew her vines and lowered her flowers like tame dogs. Neville looked charmed but Harry was quite disturbed at the thought of farming and breeding plants with _feelings_.

“Um, well, I need help with this flower-“ Harry started, before realising he never bothered to check its name, “Uh, let me think-“

“Well, how does it look like?” Neville paced around the bright greenhouse, unnaturally impatient as he tended to plants literally reaching out for his attention.

“Ah, um,” Harry tried to recall the plant he handled during that lesson, “It has many soft pink flowers, strong fragrance and grows really quickly. It’s always lashing crazily at your face and in some cases catches flames and burns into ashes.” Harry winced as he recalled how his burned almost immediately. Ron had been blabbing aimlessly about Ginny making sandwiches for their picnic later and he had emptied a whole watering can’s worth of water onto the infuriated plant. The plant obviously thought death was better than being submerged by watering from a lousy gardener.

Neville stopped flitting around and cocked his head curiously at Harry.

“You do know the lashing crazily bit and catching flame bit isn’t normal right, Harry? That mental behaviour only happens if you’re _insincere_ about handling it and treating it well.”

“Yes! I mean, er, no- and that’s why I’m here-“

“Getting this flower for a date, Harry? Despite your negative impression of it, it _is_ one of the best gifts to give to a prospective lover,” Neville grinned cheekily, “Do I get to guess who the lucky lady is before I pass the best one I have to you?”

Harry literally recoiled at the thought of dating girl Malfoy and gifting her the plant (which would probably strangle both of them to death before burning itself).

“Whoa, no, no,” Harry raised his hands, “Our essay assignment topic, remember? I...don’t want to keep a specimen of this plant, thanks. I just want to know more about it.”

“Oh,” Neville deflated, clearly disappointed that he had not found a fellow plant breeding fanatic, “Here it goes then-“

Harry spent the next hour listening to him go on and on about a plant that he was certain was the furthest from anyone’s idea of a romantic gift. But he got more than enough information about that murderous plant for his essay in the end – now it was just whether he wanted to pass that information to that git living in her little palace.

* * *

“Well, thank you for the information, Potter,” Malfoy smiled sweetly as she flipped through the notes she had dutifully taken from Harry’s mini lecture.

Harry simply continued standing in front of her desk silently.

Malfoy thinned her lips as she glared at him, “Well, off to bed, Potter. I can’t write an essay with a troll hulking over me and breathing over my neck.”

“My payment,” Harry replied, rather petulantly. He did not go through all this trouble to be called names and sneered at.

“What would that be?” Malfoy chortled, “Would a galleon suffice?”

“Get out and fly with me.”

“ _What_?!” Malfoy squawked, widening her eyes. Harry snickered at the sight, thinking that she looked rather like a malnourished surprised owl.

“You heard me right,” Harry folded his arms as he walked toward the large window. The stars shone rather brightly tonight, patterning constellations across the sky. The full moon was out and Harry’s stomach did a little flip as he thought of Remus, but he quashed the thought and rounded back onto the curious gaze of the blonde.

“I just want good company, a person that can keep up with me in flight,” Harry said casually, leaning against the wall. He could tell that Malfoy _was_ tempted to get out of the stuffy room and fly freely without fear of prying eyes.

“Asking me out on a date, Potter?” she tried to sneer. Harry wasn’t the slightest bit put off; he couldn’t be when she couldn’t even quirk her lips up into her trademark jeer.

“No; I just want a little competition because the other Seekers are barely a match for me,” Harry puffed out his chest, feeling a little more proud than he would usually let himself be, “Besides, you know you want to get out for some fresh air and company-“

Malfoy’s face contorted immediately as she stood up.

“I don’t _need_ company, you wretched-“

“Back to this little pet peeve of yours, again!” Harry bellowed back, “When are you going to grow up, Malfoy, and realise that not everything everyone says or does is maliciously directed toward _you_?!”

“You don’t know what I went through-“

“I don’t, and neither do you know my full story,” Harry snapped, “But I thought it shouldn’t matter, now that that’s in the past.”

“In the past?! Potter, some of us don’t have the privilege of leaving the nightmare; how can I, when _Father_ is still in prison-“

Harry sighed loudly as he got his back off the wall and stalked past her.

“I’m not here to argue over the War, Malfoy. If you don’t want to fly then so be it, I’m going to bed,” he retorted.

“Thank you for finally getting your stupid face out of my sight, then!” Malfoy shot back immediately.

Harry, with his hand already on the doorknob, would have barked out a laugh at their childish exchange if he hadn’t heard the loud meow from just outside.

 _Norris_.

“Fuck,” Harry swore as he let go of the knob.

The meowing didn’t stop; in fact it got louder and louder. Filch was going to appear any moment and Harry was going to get caught if he ever stepped a foot out of this room.

“Afraid of a wee little kitty, are we, Potter?” Malfoy sneered fully now, enjoying his predicament, “You still have to run along back to your tower now, though. I’m afraid the only bed here is for me.”

Harry gaped at her.

Fine, he could be pushed around for the Quidditch thing, but he wasn’t going to get into trouble as a result of _helping_ Malfoy.

“Sorry to crush your tender heart, Malfoy, but I’m going to stay here,” Harry grinned victoriously back.

Malfoy whipped out her wand and pointed it at him viciously, snarling.

“In fact, I’ll just take this spot right here,” Harry said pointedly, happily draping himself over a soft couch near the fireplace.

“I’m going to jinx your fucking face off if you stay here another second-“

“And what? I’ll just tell everyone to queue up outside your door tomorrow and wait for a glimpse of Mademoiselle Malfoy?”

That shut Malfoy up. In fact it made her withdraw like a hurt kitten as she slinked silently back to her desk. That was a low blow, and Harry knew it. Despite himself, he felt a little guilty.

“Look, Malfoy, I only said it-“

“Save it, Potter, just go to sleep,” she said, her eyes lowered. She shifted her scrolls back to her bed before flumping herself onto it and covering her entire body with a fluffy blanket. He heard a muttered _Lumos_ and the blanket was aglow. Furious scribbling ensued and Harry knew this conversation was over.

He really had to stop trying so hard with people.

* * *

Harry awoke before the sun was even up. There were faint glimmers of sunlight around him but the room was still mostly dark. There was a steadily breathing lump on the bed were Malfoy was so Harry assumed she was still sound asleep.

 _Prat_.

He quickly got up, patting his hair down. He hoped severely that no one would be up at this time; or at least catch him leaving _Malfoy_ ’s room – Merlin knew how people would react. Despite what he had said last night, he really did not want _anyone_ to know of Malfoy’s predicament.

Harry clearly had used up all his luck the past day though.

The moment he stepped out of Malfoy’s room, he heard a surprised, “ _Mr Potter!_ ” and looked up to see no one other than Professor McGonagall herself.

“W-watch where you are going,” she said disconcertedly, trying to stare into Malfoy’s room behind him as he hastily shut the door. The last thing he wanted her to think was that he was up all night doing...doing shady things with that idiot.

“Sorry, Professor, was just dropping by to help a bit with her work!” Harry exclaimed the half-truth as he quickly strode off, calming down when he heard her murmured approval from behind him.

What he faced at the Gryffindor Tower was a lot harder to shake off, though.

He came face to face with an extremely exhausted Ginny Weasley, looking dishevelled in her messy hair and huge eyebags. Her tired eyes brightened the moment she saw him and she scampered up to him (a little like a rat, he remembered thinking).

“Where _were_ you, Harry? Ron said you weren’t in and I stayed up _all_ night-“

“Merlin, Ginny, calm down, I just wanted some time to myself out by the lake.”

“The lake? Oh that sounds wonderful, Harry, take me out sometime with you,” Ginny pleaded with a tone bordering on annoying.

“I, er, I’m not sure if I’ll be headed out again so soon-“

“Well the next time I hear you’re out, I’ll pop by or something with some food for us? And maybe-“

Harry broke his attention away from her as she launched into an endless stream of words and plans, groaning loudly in his head. He had hoped that after the war, his choices and actions would become less consequential – but it was clear now that they had not.

What wouldn’t he give for a day that didn’t involve such sharp twists and turns in fate.


	4. Behind Opened Windows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Really sorry for the long time between updates! School is really getting to me.

A week quickly passed, and Harry found himself back to square one, receiving no word from Malfoy.

Harry sighed loudly to the empty common room as he folded the Daily Prophet and patted it back absentmindedly to the table. He didn’t want to think about that manipulative prat, but over the past few days he had found his worries steadily increasing. His largest concern was probably the bubbling talk in the castle regarding Malfoy’s strange long-term disappearance.

“ _Maybe he went back to the Manor?”_

_“The Manor! Merlin knows what he’s up to-“_

_“Clearly trying to find a way to revive You-Know-Who, they’ll never change…“_

Variations of such a conversation were had everywhere and whenever there was a class break. Harry had pre-emptively told Hermione, Ron and Ginny to not spill the beans about his fight with Malfoy (which apparently no one else had witnessed), reasoning that if word got out he could face severe disciplinary action. They kept their word, of course, but the fire of rumours was more than capable of feeding itself. The viciousness of the verbal attacks intensified everyday as the tales got more and more out of control. Harry found himself getting incensed over this matter frequently. The effort to rein himself in was immense, but he told himself to remember that there wasn’t very much he could do.

The bustle at the stairs told him his friends were coming to find him for breakfast. Harry gave the folded paper one last look as he strode over to them. He wondered defeatedly when word would get to the Prophet and blow up over its front page. Perhaps it was better that Malfoy was hiding away from the world. He didn’t want to know how Narcissa would react to such a headline at the Manor’s doorstep, though.

* * *

A few days later, the essay about that blasted plant was returned. Harry felt more than a pinch of discontent that he had merely received an Acceptable for it after all his effort. He scowled darkly and childishly punched his pillow before he slept, hoping that Malfoy got a Troll for the essay.

* * *

Malfoy truly had a way with harassing people, Harry thought, as a familiar owl swooped down to him during breakfast the next morning.

The owl almost purposefully made a mess of things (the calculated way Malfoy would, Harry thought), hitting its wings against milk bottles and scuffling loudly against the table. Neville looked nervously at it while Seamus hollered in amusement, chucking his toast onto the owl’s head. Ginny glared at the offending owl as it flew away and not so subtly observed Harry as he tucked the scruffy letter into his pocket. Harry averted from her questioning gaze and sighed into his cereal, numbly finishing the last spoonfuls.

“Who’s it from?” Ginny queried immediately after the four of them had left the Hall. Hermione continued reading her book as if she had heard nothing. Ron turned to face Harry with the same curious expression as his sister. Harry sighed and shifted his bag uncomfortably.

“ ‘s nothing, Gin,” he mumbled, striding slightly faster. She jogged to catch up, coiling her arm around his.

“I was just curious, because it’s not like- “

“It’s not like _what_?” Harry hissed, getting a little impatient with her constant coddling and clinging over the past few weeks.

“Well it’s not like you often talk to anyone other than the three of us nowadays, and it’s not the first time I’ve seen the owl; in fact you started your strange behavior after-“ Ginny hammered on with a loud voice, drawing inquisitive stares from students around them. Harry drew back in disgust and discomfort at the attention.

“I don’t talk to anyone but the three of you?” Harry laughed sarcastically as he shrugged off her grasp, trying his best not to explode, “And how would you even _know_ that for sure?”

“Because you and I-“

“Maybe I _want_ and _have_ a life outside of you for a bit, _Ginny_ ,” Harry spat irritably, just loud enough for his friends to hear. The venom in his tone caught even Hermione off-guard, and she looked palely up from her book at the spectacle. He sighed loudly before pacing away furiously, ignoring Ron’s angry defensive shouts and Ginny’s sobbing.

* * *

Harry crouched down in the Owlery with his head in his hands.

He hadn’t meant to just lose his temper at her like that. He _did_ feel guilty. But he was also still incensed. All he wanted after the War was just time to himself without worrying too much about what other people thought of him and his actions. Still, Ginny kept coming after him like a shark, demanding for his attention and special treatment. And her actions somehow tended to be very overt and crowd-drawing.

He liked her a lot more when she was more independent and when her happiness didn’t involve sucking the lights out of his world. They still weren’t even officially dating; yet she acted at times as if they were getting married the next day.

_I’m still only eighteen_ , Harry thought tiredly as he sat himself on the dank floor, _I defeated the Dark Lord, but I’m still only eighteen, and I want to know how it feels like to be eighteen._

He exhaled loudly and looked blearily around at the owls surrounding him. They tittered around their posts and hooted at him gently. Harry relaxed a little at their comforting presence, thinking about Hedwig for a bit.

Then Malfoy’s offensive owl jostled noisily through the front row of owls and flew down straight for Harry.

Harry yelped as he clambered to his feet, shielding his face with his arm. The large owl hooted loudly and sat on his shoulder, refusing to budge as it repeatedly butted the side of his face.

“Ow, ow, _ow_! What do you want, you foul beast?!” Harry muttered as he tried to shake it off, “I didn’t come here to find another _thing_ to attach to my body.” It crooned unabashedly in response, basking in its uncanny ability to sit still atop a flailing man. Harry glared at it as he figured out what it was asking for.

“You want me to write a goddamned reply to your owner, don’t you?” Harry snapped testily. He received an even harder butt against his face, almost knocking him off-balance. Some of the other owls hooted in alarm, as if concerned for Harry. Malfoy’s blasted owl still sat smugly on his shoulder.

“Argh okay, okay, I’ll take a look at it now,” he rolled his eyes as he took the letter out. If the letter had _anything_ to do with Malfoy bragging about her superior grade, he was going to _Incendio_ it to hell and beat her bloody owl into a disfigured pulp. He unfolded the letter gingerly, as if expecting it to be a Howler or jinxed.

There was nothing awful in the end; just crisp handwriting and a slightly more polite tone compared to the first letter.

Harry was _boggled_.

Malfoy actually had it in her to thank him sincerely for his help in passing her essay (no mention of what grade, Harry was grateful for that) and-

-And she said she’d fly with him as a display of her gratitude.

_…tonight at 11pm, Quidditch field. I’ll bring the brooms. You just find a way to sneak out..._

It was a git, and it was Malfoy specifically. But Harry could never say no to a good Snitch-catching competition and he _really_ needed his space today. He grinned despite the unfortunate identity of the letter’s owner, writing an agreement to her plans with a flourish. Her rude owl immediately tore the letter out of his hands when he was just done signing off and took off into the clear blue sky.

Harry smiled absentmindedly as he massaged his sore shoulder. He stared out for very long into the sky, feeling a little less claustrophobic than he did at breakfast.

* * *

Ron focused a death glare on Harry as soon as he stepped back into the common room. His arm was slung protectively around his sister who was still sobbing hysterically into her hands, mumbling something about, “ _why are things so hard now…?”_ The common room was fairly crowded and Harry could see that its occupants were desperately trying to not look too obvious with their eavesdropping. He stared back at the two for a moment, before shrugging and plodding away to the boys’ dormitory.

Hermione scuttled out of nowhere and grabbed his arm before he could get on the staircase.

“Want to tell me what this is all about, Harry?” she whispered, shifting in front of him so that she was blocked from sight.

Harry grunted and shook his head.

“Well, that was more of a rhetorical question. Let’s go someplace quieter to talk about this,” Hermione said, and started to move toward the door.

Harry hesitated for a bit, not sure if she was going to berate him when they got to wherever they were going to talk. But it could be a good opportunity to let her know about how stifled he felt with Ginny nowadays. And maybe she could use her influence over Ron to get him to influence Ginny in turn so that he could have his space…

_I’m thinking too much like a Slytherin._

Harry jogged quietly out of the common room to join his friend.

* * *

“So what’s up, Harry?” Hermione asked as they settled under a tree by the Lake.

Harry sighed and hung his head, “If you’re here to scold me about Ginny…”

“I’m not,” she scowled, “I am merely acting as your concerned friend.” She sniffed irritably and folded her arms. Harry felt a little pang of guilt, but that didn’t stop the panic swirling in his stomach. He took a deep breath and licked his dry lips. She cleared her throat as she not-too-discreetly tapped her watch and looked at him expectantly.

“ _Well, see, uh, when I fought with Malfoy that day, he actually_ …”

* * *

Hermione gave him a knowing glance as Harry continued dawdling around the common room while the rest of them filed away to bed. Shooting him a quick sign of _good luck_ , she retreated back to the girls’ dormitory as well, tugging a reluctant Ginny along with her. Harry flashed her a queasy grin in return, settling uncomfortably back down on the couch.

He rubbed his unnaturally cold hands together as he stared into the fireplace. Hermione had taken the news of Malfoy’s true state and his actions quite well, actually. Sure enough, she did squawk like an enraged parrot at a few of his word choices and she was surprised for a little; but she too agreed that Harry wasn’t wrong in wanting to help Malfoy instead of keeping grudges.

_Trust Hermione to take things as logically as ever._

He rubbed his eyes as he lay back on the couch. It felt ostensibly better to get a load off his chest and to have someone on his side, but he still felt…unsettled.

For one, he still hadn’t found Malfoy’s attacker.

He leant back further into the couch, scrunching his eyes. He did _not_ need his hero complex to rise again at this time.

The clock struck 11 and he gratefully ran out of the common room before his thoughts had the chance to disturb him further.

* * *

“11.15pm, could you be _any_ later, Potter?” Malfoy drawled as he jogged toward her, huffing loudly from his rush. He gritted his teeth, biting back his response as he slowly caught his breath. In the darkness, he saw Malfoy unfold her arms and walk toward him. He sensed surprise from her, probably at his non-response to her jab.

“Whenever you think you can fly without fainting on me halfway,” she muttered with less venom as she tossed him an old Cleansweep. He ran his hands over it a little nostalgically. It hadn’t occurred to him that the school still kept these around; but the sight of one did ease his heart greatly with good memories.

“I’m ready for this anytime,” he murmured back with a small grin, “Ready to _lose_ , Malfoy?”

She snorted back in derision.

“I am afraid I have far more experience in doing the other thing…what was it? Oh, right, _winning_.”

The golden Snitch flew out from her open hands without warning. The two of them took off for the night skies.

The Cleansweep was definitely incomparable in terms of speed to the other brooms both of them had owned, but the glorious rush of being in the air more than made up for it. Forgetting momentarily the castle curfew they were both breaking, Harry let out a bark of laughter as he twirled past Malfoy. He caught a glimpse of a smile on her face, an expression which the wind unfortunately quickly hid behind her hair.

“Having fun, Potter?” she sneered loudly, tossing her hair haughtily over her shoulders, “Don’t forget who the better Seeker here is.”

Harry waited for her to pull a dive toward a Snitch which he still could not spot; but she continued circling the area instead, clearly as clueless too. Relieved that he hadn’t lost, he hurtled his broom back to her side, knocking her a few times in mock tackle. Malfoy scowled darkly at him and she sped away, higher toward the clouds. Harry snorted and chased after her. He could see why her darned owl liked butting people around so much – it was hilarious and slightly therapeutic.

“Potter, I realize that my hair and the Snitch are of almost the same shade, but…” Malfoy was cut off as Harry suddenly appeared in front of her, grinning broadly from exhilaration. She seemed to get into the spirit of things for a bit, swinging a gentle punch at his face, which he dodged with ease.

Malfoy was ridiculously pale and ghostly in the jet-black night. Harry entertained the small thought that if she didn’t have her disgusting personality, she could have the potential to twinkle like one of the many stars in the sky. He laughed loudly in derision at that thought, causing Malfoy to withdraw slightly away from him and eye him judgingly.

She shifted on her broom (a little self-consciously, Harry thought) and glanced at her watch. There was a small silence in the air before she distantly commented, “I think we should get going before we get caught.”

“The Snitch, though?” Harry queried, as he flew down with her.

She looked back blankly at him, as if having forgotten about it.

“I suppose a bunch of first years or someone else will be blamed for losing it,” she shrugged, landing neatly on the ground. Harry sighed as he realized that she was withdrawing into her shell again. He jogged after her, with his broom in his hand.

“Hey, Malfoy,” he said, selecting his words very carefully, “It was nice flying with you for a bit again.”

She whipped around, her lips thinned. For a second, Harry thought that she was going to launch back into her usual rant about not needing company. She blinked at him owlishly for a while, before stiffly replying, “Flying with you was just to repay you for your help with Herbology.”

Harry grimaced at her honesty and he felt a little more miffed than he should have. He nodded in acceptance anyway, lowering his gaze.

“But it was nice to be out and flying again, yes,” she continued contemplatively, looking up at the sky.

“Sometime again, then?” Harry seized the chance to urge her on.

Her gaze snapped back down to lock on him and her mouth drew up into a lazy smirk.

“Keep that help coming if you want to fly beside the best Seeker in the castle,” she huffed proudly, almost strutting like a rooster. Harry rolled his eyes at the display, but mentally noted with some satisfaction that she wasn’t actively rejecting his help anymore.

“So, are you going to spend the rest of the night just gawking at my form?” Malfoy sneered, watching Harry dawdle around the grass aimlessly. Harry flushed and opened his mouth to snap back, but Malfoy cut him short, “Just pass me the broom so I can go pack up. You might want to run along back to the dorm before your friends think you drowned in the Lake.”

Holding his broom out to her, he watched uncertainly as she took it and moved silently off toward the supplies shed.

“Uh, well, see you around!” he called, his voice oddly loud in the silent ground. A small hesitant sound of assertion from her direction replied him. Feeling more appeased, he strode quickly back to the castle, hugging his robes around him. He hadn’t realized how cold it had gotten with the night.

When he reached the castle door, he was surprised to see it slightly ajar and lit. A figure was standing in the space, wand out. Panicking, Harry fled to a nearby bush, hoping against hope that it was not Filch and that the person had not spotted him. The person must have been looking out for him specifically anyway, because he was called out almost immediately.

“Harry? Harry, you can come out from where you are.”

_Ginny_.

Harry continued squatting behind the bush, wishing that she’d give up and go away.

“I’ve been standing here for a good while, watching you fly past curfew time. I know you’re there, Harry,” she said again, voice wavering a little this time.

He did _not_ want to deal with this, not here, not now. But he heard her soft footsteps padding down the castle steps to where he was – he didn’t have much of a choice.

Cursing internally, Harry stood up from his spot and swiveled around to come face-to-face with a tear-streaked Ginny. Her cheeks were completely wet and her hair disheveled; just as he had seen her the time he snuck back late from Malfoy’s room. The Snitch beat erratically in her right fist, as if begging to be released from her white, vice-like grip.

Harry breathed shallowly, meeting her confused gaze. He could hear her breathing loudly in return, as if she were trying to restrain herself badly from shrieking like a ghoul. She took a firm step toward him and he stumbled back a little under the force of her accusative eyes.

“Who is _she,_ Harry?! Who, in Merlin’s name, were you _flying with, Harry_?!”


	5. My Finest Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The start of the holidays = an update! I'm really sorry for the long time between updates; I tend to only write if I can sit down and go through stuff in one shot. I have no intention of abandoning this fic, definitely not when it has only just begun!

“ _Who is she?!_ ”

Ginny’s shriek resounded all around the cold ground. Harry felt his panic skyrocket, hoping that no one heard that; he didn’t want to be caught outside of curfew, and he definitely did not want to be caught by anyone in such a situation. He took another step backward, wringing his hands slightly.

“Calm down, Ginny, she’s…she’s just some uh, random girl…“, he stammered under his breath, eyes flicking around as he was too nervous to look at her. He was never one for thinking on his feet, and the level of mental acrobatics required to create an instant alibi about a girl Malfoy was near impossible for him.

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw a shadow shift nearby. He hoped desperately that Malfoy was leaving before this got worse. Ginny took a step toward him, as if she could sense that he was close to unraveling the truth about that mysterious girl.

“Is she a new friend, Harry? Or – Merlin forbid – is she a _love interest_?” she asked with a dangerously low voice.

Harry jolted immediately in aversion at the accusation of being Malfoy’s illicit lover.

“ _No!_ ” he hissed, more loudly than he had meant to, “She’s…she’s _nothing_ to me! Not even a friend, just _nothing!_ ”

Something in his tone of voice must have sounded sincere, because a smile flittered across Ginny’s tear-streaked face. The shadow in the corner stiffened for a moment, before slinking quickly back into the castle. Harry breathed deeply and loudly in shock, trying to absorb what he had just proclaimed.

“Prove it then, Harry,” Ginny said quietly, “I’ll be waiting.”

The night was getting colder, and Harry wondered if it was really just the weather that was making his insides hurt a little as well.

* * *

Harry woke up to irritatingly bright sunshine in his eyes the next morning. He groaned in frustration, banging a fist against the rickety bed as buried his head into his pillow. There were still twinges of guilt in his heart, and he found himself wishing that last night was all just a bad dream.

“Get up, Harry! We’re going to be late for Herbology if you stay in there a minute longer!” Ron called from some distance away. Harry heard the hasty shoving of books into a scuffed bag and Hermione’s voice, anxious to get to class.

Frustrated, Harry clumsily stumbled out of his bed, almost tripping over his blankets. Ron quickly ran over to him, and he dimly wondered if Ginny had told him about last night.

“Finally, sleepyhead, good morning! Listen, me and Hermione are going to pack some breakfast for you, so we’ll see you in class in a bit, alright?” Ron patted his shoulder, before scrambling off after Hermione.

_Guess she didn’t tell him._

It made him feel a little better that the situation was still somewhat under his control. He shifted slowly around the room, dressing and packing. When he was done, he glanced over at his pile of empty parchment on the wooden desk. Sighing, he sat himself at the table and looked tiredly at them, mulling over whether to write to Malfoy to clarify last night.

_Clarify what, though? Hey Malfoy, hope you didn’t take what I said with so much venom to heart, hope we can still fly every now and then – oh and today’s Herbology, wondering if you need help again because you’re too daft to figure out plants on your own-_

“It must be something – or someone – important if they’re holding you back from attending a class you’re ten minutes late for,” he heard the same bitter-laced voice from last night sound behind him.

“Ginny?!” he blinked in surprise, swirling around to look at her. She strode up, uncomfortably pressing against him as her prying eyes tried to see the parchment on the table. In that moment, Harry was infinitely glad that he hadn’t written a darn thing. He pushed her gently off him, reaching for his bag.

“How’d you get into the boys’ dorm?” he asked as he stood up, knotting his tie deftly. Ginny pursed her lips at his brushing off of her topic.

“I don’t have to tell you anything, since _you_ don’t tell me everything,” she whispered, eyeing the blank parchment suspiciously. Harry exhaled loudly.

“Well, I’m gonna head off to class then,” he said, patting his hair down for the last time. He saw her eyes blur again with tears, but he quickly ran off before his conscience caught up with him again.

* * *

Harry felt his mind reel as he settled next to Ron and Hermione in class.

“Loo kept you back?” Ron chortled as he sneaked a wrapped sandwich into Harry’s bag. Hermione wrinkled her nose at the poor joke as she continued tenderly preening her plant.

“Uh, yeah,” Harry replied distantly, craning his neck to better see the individual at the back of the class. He haphazardly snipped the leaves of his own plant, eliciting a dismayed cry from a nearby Neville.

_-how could it be?_

Alone and working on _his(?)_ own plant at the back of the class, his body mostly turned away from students who didn’t seem to care anyway if he was there or not, was _Malfoy_. He was in a boy’s uniform, his blond hair slick and cut short and neat-

“Malfoy?” Ron asked simply as he continued trying to salvage his plant.

“Y-yeah, how-?” Harry muttered, finally tearing his eyes away from the blond.

“No idea,” Ron mumbled, starting to cut his plant more viciously again, “Git just came back in today, said he was away for so long because his mother was ill and he had more pressing concerns than receiving a bad education.”

Harry furrowed his brows; did the curse finally wear off or-?

“Honestly, Ron, I think that’s a lovely thing to do – caring for your parents,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

“Not when you’re a ferret like him, Harry should’ve hexed him harder,” Ron continued grumbling. Despite herself, Hermione laughed a little. Harry glanced away from them, still deep in his thoughts.

“Anyway, did you hear how strangled and unnatural his voice was? He’s probably got a nasty case of flu; fits him well though, sounding like a dying cat,” Ron chuckled at his own joke, earning a light disapproving jab from Hermione. Harry’s curiousity was perked up again at that point.

_Still has a high voice_?

The class conveniently ended then. Forgetting the awkwardness of last night’s events in his excitement to know what happened with Malfoy, Harry packed up fast and looked around for that blonde head of hair.

“I’ll see you guys in a bit by the Lake! Gotta do something real quick,” he exclaimed. Without waiting for a response from his friends, he slipped into the crowd of students. Malfoy wasn’t that far off from him; he edged his way easily through the sleepy morning crowd.

“ _Malfoy!_ ” Harry whispered as he finally made it behind the blond. Without thinking, he clasped a firm hand on the other’s shoulder.

Malfoy startled and whipped around angrily, an ugly look on his pointed face. Caught off-guard by how feminine Malfoy’s face still looked, Harry forgot what he had wanted to ask. Malfoy scoffed and gave a venomous look to Harry’s hand on his shoulder before shoving it off ungraciously. His eyes narrowed warningly at Harry before storming off.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Harry pelted down the emptying corridor after Malfoy. As if sensing that he was not going to be able to shake Harry off easily, Malfoy stopped walking and turned around.

“Back to mock me some more?” he sneered in his strange voice. Harry still couldn’t place his finger on whether the curse had worn off, so he pressed on recklessly.

“Are you still a girl?” Harry asked bluntly, studying Malfoy’s flushed face. His gaze dropped to the other’s chest (which appeared almost completely flat) before looking back up, feeling a little lecherous for doing that.

The corner of Malfoy’s mouth twitched up in a demeaning manner.

“Nothing from me, nothing about me, should matter to _you_ , Potter. I think even you yourself made that clear yesterday,” he drawled. His voice was shaking a little though, and Harry realised that it was now a lot closer to the pitch of Malfoy’s female voice.

Malfoy fixed one last steely gaze at Harry, as if trying to tell him that he was entirely unaffected at being called _nothing_. Then he huffed dramatically and walked quickly away, probably headed to a distant part of the castle, far away from everyone else.

Harry couldn’t lie to himself now – he felt like absolute rubbish.

* * *

“Where’s Ron and Gin?” Harry asked numbly as he settled himself next to a reading Hermione.

“Oh, I think they went off to look for you,” she said, closing her book, “On Ginny’s whim, as you’d probably guess.” She seemed to say that with a small sigh. Harry shifted a little, not really wanting to start discussing Ginny at the moment. Hermione seemed to pick up on his discomfort but, like he did with Malfoy just now, persevered on.

“Look, Harry, I know you’re trying to avoid getting involved in issues which are… _serious_ and that you’re tired of Ginny clinging after your every step,” Hermione said cautiously, watching him fumble with the grass, “But- I really think this can’t go on for much longer.”

Harry closed his eyes and leant back onto the ground.

“I think you have to make up your mind about her, for the sake of both of you,” Hermione advised, concern in her voice, “Either make it a firm commitment, or…well, just…just let it go completely.”

As he heard Ginny’s anxious call of his name from behind them, he knew Hermione was right. He curled himself back up, arms wrapped around his legs and his head resting atop his knees.

“I’ll think about it, Hermione,” he smiled quietly. Hermione beamed back at him.

“That’s great, Harry! And good job with Malfoy, getting him back into class and all,” she whispered, grinning, trying to affirm his efforts. He could have died from all the irony in that moment. She patted his arm encouragingly as Ron and Ginny sat next to them, Ron immediately spouting off some news he had just heard about the Chudley Cannons.

He felt Ginny leaning against him as his three friends delved into a conversation about coaching techniques. Holding back the urge to ask for breathing space, he mulled over his choices.

It was pretty clear, he thought, that he couldn’t ‘let it go completely’. There was just way too much at stake – the Weasley family, maybe even his friendship with Ron, the guilt and probably accusations of having led her on –

And she wasn’t entirely a rotten girl, anyway. She could be nice, she was smart, she was pleasant looking and could play decent Quidditch.

Could _he_ make her happy, though? Help her return to the independent fiery girl she once was? Give her enough attention despite his unfortunate heroic tendencies?

He looked down at the girl comfortably snuggling against his arm. She looked back up at him, and she smiled a smile so genuine it caught the bright rays of the sun just right and it lit up her face and – and in that fleeting second, Harry found himself thinking it could all be worth a shot.

* * *

“ _CONGRATULATIONS!_ ” Ron roared, a week later from that day. The common room erupted in celebration, and a few juniors threw their stash of exploding confetti into the air. Butterbeer was passed merrily around the crowded room as Ron shot sparkles over the heads of Harry and Ginny. Hermione grinned at Harry as she patrolled the area for stray books, making sure that none of them got accidentally tossed into the crackling fireplace.

“About time, you two,” Neville laughed, his eyes twinkling. He was carrying that dumb fire-catching plant in his arms, and noticed Harry scowling at it. He looked from the plant to Harry to Ginny, giving Harry a knowing wink; and again Harry found himself trying not to trip over the irony, the irony that he had only asked about that couple-lover-gift plant because of _Malfoy_ -

Ginny pulled him in for another kiss and the room yelled in delirious joy, as if the Dark Lord had been conquered again.

* * *

By the next morning, the whole castle was abuzz with the news of the finally minted war celebrity couple.

The lonely blond figure seemed even more far away than he ever was before.

* * *

Harry found himself marking down in a calendar every day he has been with Ginny. Ron had teased him for being such a romantic, but in all honesty, he didn’t really do it to remember anniversaries or important events. He was doing it because he discovered that he woke up every day expecting her to suddenly change back to the girl she once was, and he was trying to figure out how many days it would take for that transformation to happen.

_I’m an idiot_ , he had thought dully in the morning as he marked down day 16 on his calendar, _I’m an idiot, and I’m an asshole for doing this._

He had tried to spend more time with her alone, to fly with her; he had brought her to Hogsmeade over the weekend and surprised her at the end of the trip with a small hand-made gift. But after doing things for her and receiving plenty in return, he still could not feel the tug of his heart strings, some form of yearning that he distantly recalled should stir whenever he was in love. And he could still see the insecurity behind her blue eyes, how tight her grip on his hand was, how clinginess wafted off her skin when he had to leave for classes.

It was probably too early to feel…feel the relationship, he supposed, as he drew her closer to him on the couch. She was falling fast asleep now that it was creeping toward midnight. His History of Magic essay, due the next day, was half-written. He sincerely hoped that the frustration swirling in him was because he couldn’t think of how else to argue that 15th century mermaids wanted to start a civil war with Muggles for fishing too much cod.

Or maybe – he felt a lump form in his throat – he had just dived into another issue without thinking, without remembering that he can give commitment, but he can’t give wholehearted love if he doesn’t really want to. He quickly snuffed the thought before it became too reproaching. He blinked rapidly to clear some stray tears from his exhausted eyes.

The fireplace burned chirpily in front of him, and Ginny’s warm body was leaning comfortably against his. However, he felt as cold as he had that night, when she and his conscience had finally caught him, when he had – the guilt rose again – called Malfoy _nothing_ and hurt hi-

What was wrong with him?

He shut his eyes and tried to sleep.

_And where could he go from here?_


	6. Nothing Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello again and thank you so much for reading this story still! It makes my day whenever I see a notification about this story in my inbox (I can't say the guilt of being a slow updater isn't there too, though..)! I did want to write more before the end of last year, but when you're away in a new country, time passes faster than the trains you're on-

The days never got better as they got colder.

And one bitter and unnaturally frigid day, fate decided to take another turn for the worse.

Harry was lying in bed with a hand over his forehead, mulling over his train-wreck of a relationship when he felt someone creep into his bunk. A head of red hair flashed before him, and he was held down against the mattress.

“ _Ginny_?!” he hissed in surprise. A giggle sounded in response and a warm body pressed against his eagerly. Hands were starting to move, and Harry flushed in panic.

“Ginny, you can’t be here, please-“

He grabbed her roving hands and held them up by the wrists. Ginny sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes as she tried to free herself from his restraining grasp.

“Look, Harry, I know you’re stressed out about all your classes, but you could really use a break-“

“This isn’t about classes, Ginny – and anyway you aren’t even allowed up here, I’ll go down to talk to you in a sec-“

“Merlin, you sound just like Hermione, Harry, seriously-“

“And I’m sorry, but you’re starting to sound really-“

Ginny forced herself down and clamped his words shut with her warm lips. Harry’s grip on her wrists slackened for a moment, and she seized the chance to free her hands and to continue trying to coax him on. His mind was spinning with confusion with what to do next; they didn’t get physical very often, and when they did, it was usually at an inopportune moment and he would withdraw quickly. He just found himself actively trying not to recreate a Cho Chang lip-lock failure, reciprocating the kiss when he needed to, with some awkward patting.

“Just relax, Harry,” she whispered as he tensed against her. Was he supposed to keep his eyes closed or open them? He decided to keep them closed so he could try to _want_ to experience this-

_I want this, I want this-_

Fingers skittered down his chest to someplace down.

_I want this, I want this, I want this-_

Ginny broke off the kiss, and he could sense hesitation from her movements. He knew what was wrong, if being completely unaroused in this sort of situation was considered an ill – and he daren’t open her eyes to see her expression.

He felt her make to continue and a surge of emotions overtook him: panic, guilt, shame. He scrambled up, finally opening his eyes but keeping them locked at the wall behind her.

“I- I’m sorry- I think I need to go for a walk-“

“Harry, _please_ ,” a soft voice pleaded.

“I’m just- I’m not really ready to do this, I just need-“

“Not ready to do _what_? Just this? Or the whole…”

Harry made the mistake of looking at her for a second, and her aghast and hurt expression tore his heart to shreds. He balled his hands over his face, trying to regulate his breathing and select his next words carefully.

“Ginny, Ginny I am really sorry that I’ve been such a jerk and that you’ve been dragged through this for so long, but the truth is that-“

“It’s alright, Harry, I know that you’re just not in the mood right now, I’ll leave you to do your work and we could go fly at night, hm?” She edged closer to him and Harry could almost feel the desperation to keep this together roll off her. He pressed on despite the terrible fear of hurting her gnawing away inside him.

“The truth is that I’m – I’m just not ready for a relationship with you, Ginny. Maybe I should’ve been clearer about this from the start, instead of just selfishly trying to give it a shot at your expense. I – You’re a wonderful girl, Ginny, but I really don’t think we work out…” he whispered, finally looking steadily at her.

“No, _no_ …” Ginny clasped a hand over her horrified face, tears spilling from her eyes freely now, “Harry, I think we’re perfect together, please, and ever since I first heard about you I’ve loved-“

“I wish I could live up to that image, Ginny, I really do wish that things were that simple and that we could work out, but I don’t want to hurt you anymore or waste your time anymore, Ginny – please, listen to me –“

“This isn’t – is this about that girl?” she hissed suddenly, edging away from him for the first time, “Are you intending to see her? Or are you seeing her-“

“I’m not seeing anyone!” Harry replied indignantly, doing his best to rein his emotions and voice in, “This is difficult to believe after all the things I’ve done, but this is in your best interest, really, Ginny, please-“

“J-just go for your walk! Go find that girl, I don’t – I don’t care, I’ll –“ Ginny fumbled and choked on her words. In a bout of frustration, she flung herself off his bunk, sprinting away as she wiped her tears furiously away from her face. Harry rolled off his bed and made to follow her, but stopped himself. He groaned and whirled back to face his bunk, alone in the mercifully empty and quiet room.

Relief was flooding his senses, but so was overwhelming guilt at what he had done. He kicked his trunk viciously and sank to the floor, wishing that it would consume him whole.

He didn’t have much time to wait before a furious red-headed boy stormed up to him.

* * *

“I’m sorry I pushed you into this whole fiasco,” Hermione muttered to Harry at dinner as she picked at her chicken. Ron and Ginny were absent from dinner, and Harry had the feeling he wouldn’t be seeing very much of them for quite a while.

“Sorry?” Harry asked numbly as he looked into his friend’s concerned eyes, “None of this is your fault, Hermione.”

He stabbed a potato with his knife before continuing, “I’m sorry you and Ron argued over this though. This whole disaster is my own doing, I-“

Hermione patted his hand comfortingly, and then shook her head.

“Just- thank you, Hermione,” he said quietly but gratefully. She grinned back in response. As if she had noticed the growing number of curious stares at the solemn, Weasley-less pair, Hermione started to talk rather loudly about how fascinating the last History of Magic lesson was. Gazes were swiftly averted as no one wanted to get roped into an academic argument with her over dinner. Harry snickered internally, and almost felt better for a moment till he saw a familiar face sneer at him from directly across the Hall.

Malfoy looked at Hermione to Harry, then to the empty space in front of the pair. A large smirk drew itself across his face as he haughtily got up and brushed imaginary dust off his pants. Swinging his bag across his shoulders, he did not entertain Harry with another look as he strode off.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, “Ready to head back?”

Harry snapped back as if he were in a trance.

“I- I’m going to go for a walk,” he murmured, standing up. Hermione sighed softly but did not pursue an explanation.

“Don’t do anything rash, alright? I expect you back by curfew.”

Harry smiled weakly back at her.

“Thanks for always being such a friend, Hermione.”

If she still doubted his intentions, she hid it well. She waved him off, beaming back as she adjusted her bag,” Don’t even mention it, Harry. Just remember, back by curfew!”

* * *

Malfoy was just about to shut the door to his room when Harry reached. With pleasure, Harry noted the panicked look on the blond’s face as he tried to heave his door shut in time. Harry, in his clout of anger, wrenched the door open and forced himself inside, pushing the baffled Malfoy away with ease.

“Get out of my room, Potter,” Malfoy said, leaning like a scared cat against his table, his wand out.

“You think this is funny now, don’t you?” Harry barked accusingly, approaching him menacingly.

“What?” Malfoy knitted his brows in confusion, wand hand still not wavering, “Potter, I don’t know what you want, but I don’t have it.”

“I saw the way you looked at me in the Hall! Do you think this is hilarious? How I lost two of my friends through the process of actually trying to be a decent human to you-“ Harry yelled, almost jabbing his wand into Malfoy’s chest. Malfoy’s pale eyes looked down at the wand near him in fear.

“ _Expelliarmus!”_ the blond hissed, knocking Harry’s wand off with a dull clatter to a dark corner of the room. Malfoy lowered his wand slightly, but the look in his eyes was now feral.

“Potter, no one, let me repeat this so you can get it through that thick skull of yours, _no one_ forced you to take this oh-so-arduous journey of trying to befriend me,” he spat viciously, collecting himself and standing upright again, “I don’t know what happened between you and your Weasel friends, and it’s okay, save your spit, you don’t have to tell this _nothing_ anything!”

“I-“ Harry gasped, feeling his fury subside as the realization of how irrationally he was behaving kicked in – and that _guilt_ for calling Malfoy a _nothing_ , he hadn’t apologised –

“It’s funny to you now anyway, isn’t it?” Harry dropped his voice a tone, “Now that, well, you’re back to being… _you_ , and my life got derailed at about the same time.”

Malfoy jerked backward suddenly as he started laughing hysterically. He shakily placed his wand on the table and covered his eyes with a pale hand as his body shook. Harry scowled deeply, feeling threatened and wondering if he should use the now free wand to poke the boy’s eyes out.

“Potter, you are _so_ upset with me because you thought life suddenly became _unfair_ to you but not me?” Malfoy cackled, as if he had just heard the best joke of the century.

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it like a dumb goldfish.

“You know what,” he said, slumping slightly, “You-“

“Cut the niceties, Potter,” Malfoy smirked lazily, “You don’t have a thing to worry about here. In fact, I’ll show you why. Wipe that tormented pout off your ugly mug and look at me.”

Harry eyed the other boy warily, but shirked away immediately when he realised that Malfoy was _stripping_ in front of him.

“Fuck, Malfoy!” Harry yelled in shock, covering his eyes to save his mind, and wondering if the blond had run into a very active Whomping Willow recently, “Fuck- just keep your-“

“I should have figured that you’ve never seen a girl naked before, Saint Potter,” Malfoy sneered, his voice suddenly as high as Harry remembered it a few weeks ago. Harry felt Malfoy pull his hand away from his face, and he reluctantly opened his eyes to look down at the blond. He gasped in surprise and tried to pull away, but Malfoy’s grip kept him firmly in place.

It was the strangest feeling, to think that this _was_ indeed the first nude female body he’s seen in real life. There were always the wizarding magazines the boys tossed around sometimes of course, but the bodies never looked as soft and real as this; even if the body was simply Malfoy’s hexed and distorted body. He chanced a swift glance-over, and yes, it was ascertained with a nervous gulp, that Malfoy was still very much physically female.

“I thought you…you looked like a boy again,” Harry admitted weakly, finally tearing his eyes away from the pale body in front of him.

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy sneer again.

“Well, with a little magic on the uniform I can upkeep that external appearance in the day,” he ( _she?_ Harry decided that ‘ _he_ ’ was better at reminding him that this strange girl was really still one hundred percent Malfoy) said casually, pulling his clothes back over his body, “But I found that the spell resets at midnight every day, so I have to spend over an hour the next morning fixing my hair and uniform all over again.”

“Oh,” Harry replied dumbly, starting to forget why he even decided to come here. He hummed for a bit, before he uncomfortably shifted away to the corner where his wand lay, wanting to get out from this strange situation.

“So I guess we’re both stuck with pretty crappy circumstances now, hm,” Malfoy observed flatly, patting his shirt down.

“I’m not going to stay here to debate about who has it worse. See you, Malfoy,” Harry said bluntly, moving for the door.

“You’re pathetic, you know, Potter. I mean, you were atrocious for a long time, but running away from things that scare you is a whole new low,” Malfoy said distantly. Harry paused at the door, feeling his temper riling up again.

“Well, then I sincerely _apologise_ to anyone who finds that Harry James Potter is unable to live up to their mythological images of him,” he snapped, opening the door and stepping outside.

“Take me to Hogsmeade,” Malfoy muttered, almost inaudibly. His pointy face was turned toward the fire, and he was now the one refusing to meet Harry’s insistent gaze. Harry shook his head in puzzlement.

“What?!” he called back loudly, “If you didn’t get the memo, Malfoy, you’re not a very good comedian.”

Malfoy shrugged and turned away, “It’s not like you really have anyone to hang out with, besides Granger now - isn’t that so?”

Harry stared at him, utterly bewildered. He tried some words, but he didn’t know what more to say to the now reticent figure. So he slammed the door hard in response and strode back to the Gryffindor common room, even more confused than he had been before.

* * *

Ron was sitting by himself on the sofa in the common room when Harry entered. Harry heard him give a disgruntled snort at his appearance. The other boy shifted to face away from him entirely, picking to completely ignore him. Hanging his head, Harry approached him hesitatingly. His friend then immediately looked up at him without warning. Ron gave another furious snort; face reddened unflatteringly, shoving Harry aside roughly as he headed for bed.

“Lovely to see that you made it back before curfew, Harry,” he heard Hermione uncertainly comment from a desk behind him once Ron was gone. He swivelled around to face her, trying to ignore the echoing pangs of rejection and loneliness growing within him.

“Yeah,” Harry muttered emptily.

“Have a good rest, then?” she said, putting her quill down and looking at him gently.

“I-“

He considered for a while, if to tell her about what happened with Malfoy and the strange thing the boy had said about Hogsmeade. But as she turned back to face her essay, he realised how exhausted her features looked in the firelight- so he fell silent and went away wordlessly with his own tumultuous thoughts.

 


	7. Finistere, Finistere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Many university research projects and essays unf. I hope you enjoy this chapter, still - stuff is beginning to pick up, ever so slightly..

“I’m going out to Hogsmeade with Ron,” Hermione said quietly, arranging her scarf around her neck gingerly. Harry slumped over the desk, his breath frosting the icy window in front of him. He nodded quietly, staring at his blurred reflection in the snowed glass. His hands were pressed against the rough parchment beneath them, and he picked idly at the corner of his script.

He heard Hermione sigh behind him. Ron had increasingly requested for her company over the past two weeks, and because Harry had been unable to patch things up with his friend, it meant more isolation for him. He had thought of confronting Ron about it, but he knew better than to put Hermione in the spot like that.

He could feel her watching his motions, as if trying to read his thoughts. He nodded again, rather reluctantly, to tell her to go ahead with her plans. She patted his shoulder gently – he acknowledged this with a tired shuffling of his body against the wooden table – and then her footsteps started and faded away.

Watching the snow fall softly onto the white grounds outside, Harry wondered distantly if a certain boy was outside, alone, in the winter as well. The bright white sun pierced through the less obscured parts of the glass, and as he felt it play across his frowned face, he realized starkly how lonely he had become.

After all this time – he had started his life alone, and today on a cold white day, after the most trying years of his life, he found himself alone again. The scrutinizing rays of the sun flickered dim for a moment, and Harry let a shaky tear escape in the momentary shadows.

* * *

“So are you ever going to _speak_ to me?!”

That night, tired from loneliness and being ignored, Harry found his temper boiling and as harsh as the sun’s rays.

Ron casually looked up at him from his Chudley Cannons magazine, body spread and relaxed across his bunk. He blinked once at his fuming friend, and then turned back to reading the review of the past week’s matches.

“You’re just going to keep avoiding me, huh?” Harry seethed.

No response.

“Would you just _say_ something?!” Harry hissed, ripping the magazine out of his friend’s hands and throwing it onto the floor without thought.

That made Ron sit up immediately, and Harry then realized he had made a mistake. He backed away, as his taller friend, his face as red as his hair, towered over him. Ron jabbed a forceful finger against his chest painfully.

“I don’t have to _say_ anything to anyone who has the bloody audacity to _cheat_ on my little sister with some random blonde _bitch_!” Ron shoved Harry roughly, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.

“Ron, I didn’t _cheat_! Swear on Merlin’s grave, I broke up with her because it wasn’t working out, I didn’t want to waste her-“ Harry leapt on the chance to try to explain himself, to get his friend back, to get his friend to _understand_ how difficult the past weeks had been-

“Would my sister _lie_ to me about what she saw with her own eyes? Don’t think I don’t know, Harry, you were flying with that girl after curfew, running away at strange times at night!” Ron yelled, “Stop trying to bloody martyr yourself, Harry! You cheated on my sister, that’s it! Get your head out of the ground, you’re not the Chosen One anymore, nobody cares!”

“She was just an _acquaintance_ ,” Harry stressed, trying to control his emotions that were riling up at the mention of his hero status, “Trust me and put that aside, Ron. What happened between Ginny and I was the result of only _us_ , and yes, I made a mistake, I shouldn’t have leapt into a relationship with her, I thought it could work-“

“Yeah, you thought you could have your cake and eat it!” Ron continued rambling, barely listening to Harry anymore, “You thought that you were _so_ special, the hero of the wizarding world, you thought you could have _my sister_ and some blonde side skank, you-“

Harry tore himself away from Ron’s tirade of words and numbly headed out. Ron shouted something extremely off-colour as he shut the door behind him, and he took that as his cue to sprint off far, far away from the Gryffindor dormitory.

* * *

Harry deflated helplessly when he realized with disappointment who he had run into on the way to the Astronomy Tower.

“Watch where you’re going, Potter!” Malfoy hissed in pain, rubbing his head as Harry nonchalantly pulled him up off the ground, “What’s got your boxers in a twist tonight?”

“’s nothing,” Harry muttered, eager to get away from Malfoy’s curious silver gaze, “Just go back to your room or wherever you were sneaking to.”

Malfoy blinked innocently at him, and Harry subconsciously took a few steps back as the other leant forward, looking like a shark that had caught a whiff of blood.

“You’re still fighting with them,” Malfoy said, as if stating the simplest fact in the world. Harry was a little uncomfortable with the complete lack of malice on the other’s face. Still, he tsk-ed in irritance – _do I have to report my life to him?_ – and nodded as he started to walk away. He felt a strange lurch in his heart as he realized that Malfoy was _jogging_ up to catch up with him. He stopped walking and leant dejectedly against the cold stone wall. He felt Malfoy’s warmth discomfortingly near him.

“Still too proud to take up my hand of friendship, even now?” Malfoy whispered, watching him intently. Harry sighed and massaged his temples.

“Look, Malfoy, I’m not ‘too proud’ to be your friend. I offered, remember? But you were so prissy about it at first, and then I screwed up that night,” Harry replied, rubbing his left forearm self-consciously, “Also, uh, I kinda do still want to be friends with Ron. Not sure that is gonna happen if I hang around you too much.”

Harry tried to avert his eyes from Malfoy’s face – he didn’t want to see the insulted expression over that pointy face and feel bad about being a callous idiot again. But he sneaked a glance out of curiosity, and found to his surprise a still completely calm face. Malfoy nodded, then casually shrugged and slowly slinked back to the shadows.

“I’ll see you around then, Potter,” he whistled quietly. Harry heard his soft footsteps padding away, and then he found _himself_ running now to catch up with Malfoy instead. He grasped the other’s shoulder without thinking, and pulled him around to face him.

 “I’ll go to Hogsmeade with you, alright? This Saturday, at Honeydukes at noon or something,” Harry rambled nervously without thinking.

He caught a flutter of a smile across Malfoy’s face as the other looked back at him in sheer surprise.

“It’s on, Potter,” he grinned, “I’ll see you there.”

He jolted in shock as Malfoy patted the hand on his shoulder and continue walking quietly away. Harry stood there gormlessly for a while, mind whirring from what he had just proposed, before he remembered that he had a bed to return to and Filch to avoid.

* * *

_Oh god oh god oh god what if that ferret pulls one on me, what was I even THINKING, stupid stupid-_

Harry groaned loudly as he buried his face into his pillow, tugging at his hair. He heard Hermione call for him from the common room, and he flung himself, disgruntled, out of bed and stormed downstairs.

* * *

He could feel Hermione’s eyes boring holes through his skull as he chomped viciously at the lettuce in his squashed sandwich. He swallowed a lump of the soft bread with a loud gulp, and let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry I got up from the wrong side of the bed today, Hermione,” he groaned, shifting his weight on the chilly bench, “Must’ve been difficult for you to convince Ron to let you spend lunch with me.”

Hermione, not taking her eyes off him as she put down her half-nibbled food, said calmly, “Just tell me what’s got you wound up today, Harry.”

Harry kicked the small snow pile near his shoe hesitantly.

“Well um, I agreed to go hang out with Malfoy at Hogsmeade this Saturday,” he mumbled, scrunching his face up.

He felt Hermione brighten up next to him. “That’s not a bad thing at all, Harry! That’s wonderful! First you got him back into class, and now you’re off continuing your friendship…” she pattered on, giving him a congratulatory pat on the back.

“Well, um, Hermione,” Harry continued, not wanting to correct her on the ‘getting him back into class’ bit, “Don’t you think Ron would be even angrier with me if he realized I was hanging out with Malfoy?”

Hermione blinked, and he saw her expression turn downcast for a second.

“I- I guess he would,” she admitted uncomfortably, “But…as much as it feels _horrible_ of me to say this, didn’t you break up with Ginny because you wanted different things from her? If you want this friendship with Malfoy, I’m not sure why any of us should have a strong opinion against it –I mean, you _are_ a living sentient being-“

Harry was caught off-guard for a moment, having forgotten that Hermione knew that the ‘blonde skank’ he was caught flying with was Malfoy – and so understood most of what was happening with him. He felt a little more comforted in the knowledge that he had at least someone he could confide to still, somewhat.

“You’re a wonderful friend, you know, Hermione,” he smiled into his sandwich. She shot him an encouraging grin back in return, and they continued the remainder of their lunch with peace.

* * *

On that Saturday, the 19th of December 1998, Harry found himself checking the calendar over and over again.

“Today _is_ Saturday, right?” Harry asked Hermione anxiously whilst trying to flatten his hair. His frantic motions kept making his messily done scarf slide off his shoulders. Hermione shot him an amused side-glance.

“For the third time this late morning –yes, Harry,” she snickered.

“I only asked you once-“

“Saw you checking the calendar at least twice the past hour,” she shrugged, patting his shoulder with a smile,” I’m headed off with Ron first, have a good time!”

“Yeah, sure, and oh- Hermione?” Harry said hesitantly, “Um, try to make sure we don’t run into each other?”

Hermione discreetly nodded, and with a final smile, she left him alone to fix his scarf and ten minutes to get to Malfoy at Honeydukes.

* * *

Hogsmeade was _thronging_ with students. Harry was getting a slight headache from the crowd and lovestruck couples, but this meant, he noted, that maybe he could get away with spending a few hours with Malfoy. It was with much difficulty that he wormed himself through the crowd to Honeydukes. Standing on tiptoes, he scanned the sea of students for a head of ungodly bright hair.

Sure enough, he caught sight of Malfoy quickly. The other boy (Harry was insanely glad that Malfoy didn’t pull a fast one on him and appear as a ‘girl’) seemed to be fidgeting nervously at the corner of the store. There was a sleek, professional looking envelope and letter in his hands, and his grey eyes kept flitting from the letter to his surroundings. His face contorted into its usual scowl as a bunch of third years rudely shoved past him to get to the humbugs.

“Hey,” Harry breathed, sliding next to Malfoy.

Malfoy startled, and with a pink flush on his face, crumpled the envelope and letter into his coat pocket.

“Almost thought you were going to stand me up on our _date_ , Potter,” he attempted to purr, the pink still spotting across his pale face.

Harry smiled grimly and asked curiously, “What was that you were looking at?”

He observed Malfoy’s gloved hand re-enter his black coat, as if to reassure himself that the letter was still safe in there.

“I-,“ Malfoy started, then dropped his gaze and stopped for a moment, “Maybe I’ll tell you about it later, yes?”

Harry couldn’t help a creeping sense of unease, and suddenly Katie Bell and her necklace flashed past his mind again. He was a little grateful that he couldn’t see the blemished left forearm of Malfoy.

“It’s nothing Dark at all,” Malfoy muttered, as if sensing his growing discomfort.

Another group of students nudged the pair aside roughly.

“Shall we?” Malfoy drew himself back up to his full height, smirking, “Or do I have to offer my hand, lest you decide it is improper to walk without an arm linked with yours?”

Harry snorted despite himself, and decided to trust Malfoy, if just for a bit.

* * *

“Bertie Bott’s beans are for _peasants_ ,” Malfoy hissed viciously two hours later, spitting his vomit-flavoured bean out ungracefully onto the snow-covered pavement. A couple cooing at each other nearby stared disgusted at him, and Harry laughed at his complete disregard for them.

The two of them had been walking in and out of shops whilst eating a huge pile of candy they had bought on impulse at Honeydukes. There had been an awkward tension between them for the first hour, which had since melted after several attempts from both at rapport. Harry was extremely thankful that everyone else was too caught up with each other to notice his choice of company today.

“Have a Sugar Quill to wash that taste out,” Harry grinned, passing Malfoy one and chancing a light pat on his shoulder. Malfoy barely flinched at that contact; he simply took the offered candy and almost greedily started sucking on it.

The snow was starting to fall more heavily, and Harry regretted not wearing a thicker coat out today. He stuffed his hands deeper into his coat pockets, hoping that Malfoy wouldn’t pick up on his shivering. No such luck.

“Cold, are we?” Malfoy scoffed, “Should we go to Puddifoot’s and get a nice warm cup of tea?” The blond skipped girlishly in front of Harry and pouted, fluttering his eyelashes mockingly.

“The Three Broomsticks will do, I think,” Harry smiled wanly. He didn’t ever want to revisit that dreadful place, or find out what Puddifoot thought of him after the Cho Chang incident.

Malfoy sighed dramatically, placing a thin hand against his forehead.

“Men! You’re all _no_ fun!”

* * *

Harry held Malfoy back at the entrance of The Three Broomsticks, peering inside nervously.

_No sign of Ron or Ginny_.

He relaxed and strode in, claiming an empty table near the door.

“Worried about the Weasleys,” Malfoy whistled lowly as he sat himself, “You don’t have anything to worry about, Potter, the both of them are probably busy and off doing…”

Harry flashed him a warning look.

“I’ll keep my comments to myself,” Malfoy sulked, surprisingly not wanting to make a scene, “For today.”

“Butterbeer?” Harry asked as he stood up, fishing in his coat for change. Malfoy hummed a yes as he peeled off his dragon-skin gloves and slid his hand back into his damned coat pocket. Harry chanced another curious glance at him, before hurrying off to get the drinks.

“Harry!” Madam Rosmerta called joyously as he finally made it to the counter, “I haven’t seen you in a while! How’ve you been, my dear boy?”           

Harry grinned, “Quite well, actually. Having a more normal life is wonderful.”

Rosmerta beamed back at him and scurried around the shelves, “Butterbeer for you today, I presume? Two glasses for you and your lovely lady?” She winked heavily as she placed two overflowing glasses atop the counter.

_Lovely lady…?_

Harry startled, wondering if Malfoy had suddenly turned back into his more feminine looking form. He craned his neck, squinting back to his table in fear.

“Oh, Harry! There’s no need to be shy about affairs of the heart,” Rosmerta sighed dreamily, “Her name- Ginny, isn’t it? I see her walking through the door right now! Have this one on the house.” She pushed the glasses eagerly toward a shocked Harry.

“I, er, thanks!” Harry tried a smile as he fumbled with the heavy glasses, desperate to get away from the counter and to slink back to the dark corner where his table was.

Malfoy almost jumped in surprise as Harry slammed the glasses ungraciously onto the wooden table. Harry then quickly took his seat, running his hands through his messy hair.

“She hasn’t noticed you,” Malfoy sneered, patting down his shirt, “Though with that entire racket you were making, I’m surprised she didn’t.”

Harry drank deeply from his glass, looking around for Ginny. She was seated with some Hufflepuff from her year, and leaning a bit too snugly against him for it to be platonic. They seemed pretty wrapped up with each other – she really didn’t appear to notice the pair of them. Harry blinked at the spectacle, and then turned back to his table.

He didn’t feel a thing. There was no rush of jealousy, no lovesick feelings like there was just two years ago.

“Don’t start the waterworks on me,” Malfoy murmured uncertainly.

Harry smiled sincerely this time, “I won’t.”

He thought he saw a look of surprise flit across the other boy’s face.

“Mistletoe,” Malfoy suddenly mouthed, with wide eyes.

“What?” Harry squinted at him, confused.

Malfoy pointed to the slowly growing plant above Harry’s head. Harry looked around, and realised that enchanted mistletoes had been stealthily growing atop the head of random customers – much to the dismay of some of them.

“Do I have to-,” he started, staring ominously at Malfoy with a very, _very_ dry mouth.

“Let’s just get out of here before we’re forced to snog and cursed by your ex,” Malfoy hissed, quickly backing out of his chair. Harry ran out after him into the white snow without hesitation.

* * *

“Fuck, Potter, that _hurt_!”

Harry guffawed with laughter as his group of levitating snowballs smacked Malfoy repeatedly across his face and shoulders.

Malfoy scowled darkly, charming a snowman near Harry to approach him menacingly. Harry quickly swung his boot hard into it, shattering it back into fine powdery snow. He saw Malfoy throw a small fit from the corner of his eye. Harry snorted and trudged over the thick snow to the other boy.

“Hey,” Harry said. The snow was falling extremely heavily and fast now, and the sun was setting quickly. Harry was certain he’d have lost sight of Malfoy if it weren’t for that boy’s sleek black coat and shiny blond head.

“It was nice hanging out with you today,” Harry smiled.

He heard Malfoy suck in a breath, as if he were pondering how to courteously respond to Harry. Malfoy’s grey eyes flickered to the dying sun, and the way the weak light glinted off them made him seem a little less stand-offish.

“I suppose it was, Potter,” he replied quietly, “Well…”

His hand slid back into his coat pocket as his voice trailed off.

_That_ _letter! How could I have forgotten-_

Harry didn’t know whether to push Malfoy to tell him about it; he so desperately wanted to _know_ what it was, but at the same time he couldn’t tell if that would tick Malfoy off and undo all their efforts at (an awkward) friendship so far. He decided to bite his lip and settled for watching Malfoy squirm silently as he clenched the letter in his pocket.

“Well,” Malfoy continued. After ascertaining that no one was within hearing distance of them, he drew the mysterious letter out of his pocket. It was folded neatly in his curled hand. The pink flush was spreading across his face again, and his brow furrowed as he looked up at Harry.

“Well I- I have something very important to ask of you, Potter.”


	8. Nimbus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Another chapter finally! There was some writer's block going into this one, but I hope it still reads okay.

"Well I- I have something very important to ask of you, Potter."

Malfoy whistled lowly and squeezed the letter in his hand extremely tightly, as if hoping that doing that would destroy it for all eternity. Harry quickly reached his hand out to receive the letter, but Malfoy flinched and took a nervous step backwards.

 _What is_ _**wrong** _ _with him?_

Harry scowled, feeling weariness growing within him as Malfoy started appearing reticent again.

"Would you just _tell_ me about it already?" Harry sighed, moving himself toward the blond. Malfoy's face was now blotched with a faint pink, and his eyes were carefully tied to the ground.

"It's not that simple…" Malfoy whined softly.

"Well, we are friends now, and friends don't keep important things from each other," Harry hissed in response, "…right?" He suddenly realised dryly that he didn't really want to know if Malfoy didn't consider him a friend; he didn't want to feel stupid-

"I guess we are," Malfoy said stiffly, and Harry heaved a silent sigh of relief unconsciously. Malfoy drew his spine back upright, and Harry had a fleeting image of Lucius reprimanding a hesitant young boy to appear confident despite his fear.

"Promise me that you'll help me," Malfoy tilted his head up to meet Harry's anticipatory gaze. Harry squinted confused at him. Maybe the lack of friends in Slytherin had Malfoy not understanding normal social exchanges.

"I believe you are supposed to tell me what it is first," Harry chuckled despite himself. Malfoy sneered back at him, clearly not liking Harry's insinuation that he was anything but polished at social interactions. The letter was deposited back into his snug coat pocket.

"Let's head back to the castle first then," Malfoy said distantly, trudging slowly away.

* * *

Harry sat himself down on one of Malfoy's overly plush chairs and eyed the blond carefully. Malfoy took his time brushing snow off his coat and settling the crinkly envelope on the oak desk. Gingerly perching himself on a chair opposite of Harry, he pressed his back strongly against the firm back of his ornate chair, as if not trusting his back to stay straight by itself.

"Christmas is coming very soon," Malfoy started, sounding more and more business-like by the minute. Harry grunted a sound of agreement, hoping that Malfoy will get to the point soon.

"This Friday, in fact," Malfoy continued, and despite his flat tone, Harry saw his right hand nervously pick away at the sleeve of his left arm. Malfoy licked his chapped lips and looked past Harry into the chirpily burning fireplace.

He breathed heavily and pressed on, "Mother has been _incessantly_ asking me to return for Christmas dinner." Malfoy then paused dramatically and stared at Harry, as if waiting for a strong reaction from him. Harry frowned at him and shrugged, shaking his head. Sighing loudly, Malfoy looked at him almost condescendingly.

"Really, Potter, you do not see the problem with that?" Malfoy narrowed his eyes, arms now folded uncomfortably across his chest.

"You're close to your mother, she wants you back for a nice festive dinner, I think it sounds perfectly wonderful," Harry prattled, feeling a little lost.

"Perfectly wonderful if I were still a _boy_ ," Malfoy said testily, shifting to the edge of his seat.

"You look like one," Harry noted, waving a hand over Malfoy's disarmingly male figure. Malfoy rolled his eyes and tch-ed loudly.

"As I am Mother's only son, she knows exactly how my face looks like, down to this little blemish here," Malfoy pointed at some part of his cheekbone (which didn't appear to have any defect to Harry), before rattling on, "Unlike the Weasleys, who have _so_ many children they can only afford to identify them by: ginger head and god-awful freckled face, ridiculous-"

"If you want any help, I suggest you stop right there," Harry warned cautiously, though a small smile played itself across his mouth.

"You were laughing _anyway_ ," Malfoy drawled lazily like an entitled cat, "Anyway, I have been looking at myself very much in the mirror these past few days-" – Harry snorted unnecessarily loudly – "-Shut up, Potter, more than usual, anyway; and I have found that my feminine features – the nose, especially, Merlin – are completely off from my normal face. Before you ask further, I'm trying to say that if I went for the dinner, Mother would pick up that something is wrong."

"Why not just _not_ go for the dinner?" Harry suggested, mentally slapping himself for sounding rather unhelpful.

"Because Mother has been alone all this while since Father's still locked up. I don't want her to be alone even on Christmas. I actually promised her before I left for this semester that I would be back for Christmas, and this letter was one in a chain of reminders about that," Malfoy muttered, combing his hair through with thin fingers, "But if I go as I am now and she finds out about the hex, it will worry her even more about how I'm doing in school, and the family's future."

"Oh," Harry stated dumbly, mind working furiously to process the fact that Malfoy was capable of actual concern.

"This is where you come in," Malfoy said, his grey eyes sliding back to Harry. His face was now expressionless again, and he looked paler than possible.

"What's the request?" Harry asked curiously, "Drop a gift off on your behalf?"

Malfoy drew in breath sharply at Harry's expectations. Thinking that he was offering more than Malfoy was expecting, Harry raised a brow, nodding assertively – he could do that with no problem at all. Malfoy dropped his gaze from him in response, his body starting to angle away from Harry in discomfort again. His hands were gripping the chair handles so tightly that their whiteness had Harry feeling rather scared himself. Squeezing his eyes shut as if not wanting to watch the demise of his own pride, Malfoy choked out his request in a hasty ramble.

" _IneedyoutotakeaPolyjuicePotionandattendthedinnerasme_."

" _WHAT?!_ " Harry yelled, not sure if he heard Malfoy correctly, hoping fervently that he did not. "C-could you repeat that-" A vase fell onto the floor with a loud smash, knocked over by Harry as he scrambled to stand up. Appearing to fear Harry's imminent departure, Malfoy swiftly got up as well. His eyes flashed rather wildly and his bottom lip was swollen from his anxious biting. He placed a clammy hand on Harry's shoulder, holding him still as he slowly repeated his words.

"I _need_ you to take a Polyjuice Potion and attend the dinner with Mother as me."

_How could he think I would possibly agree to that?!_

"I-uh," Harry fumbled with his collar, feeling edgy from Malfoy's very close and overbearing proximity, "Well, Malfoy, I- come on, there's no way we can make that potion in time, even if I wanted-"

" _I already have it_ ," Malfoy shot back quickly, "I made a batch of five large vials already, in fact; they're in the closet over there."

"You're _mad_ ," Harry's eyes boggled, as the realisation that Malfoy was being dead serious whacked him like a loose freight train.

"Maybe, but I _really_ need your help, Potter," Malfoy pleaded, shaking him slightly; "I don't have anyone else to ask, or to trust. They'll either tell the whole world about my form, or murder Mother once they get to her."

"How'd you brew so many potions in so little time? One vial needs at least a month to make," Harry queried. Malfoy shot him a confused look, clearly wondering how Harry even knew anything about the brewing of this potion.

"In my panic after the hex, I brewed a few cauldrons of the potion and threw in hair from a comb I used before the incident," Malfoy shared, looking eager to win more of Harry's trust, "I drank a vial but unfortunately it did not work; the hex afflicting me kept me as a female. That was when I gave up hiding in my room and started charming myself to go for classes, if you recall-"

"-Won't I get caught by the Manor's defences? Won't it look like _I_ wanted to murder your mother if she sees through the disguise?"

"The Manor's only allowed very basic defences by the Ministry after the War, and they're not good enough to catch someone using Polyjuice," Malfoy replied, nodding in agreement to Harry's mutter of 'that's terrible', "As for your second concern, I highly doubt Mother will be casting any revealing spells on her son if he acts, looks and sounds as normal."

"Y-yeah that's another issue!" Harry squawked, "I wasn't raised as a well-mannered boy of noble heritage who knows how to use twelve different types of knives at a too-long table, she'll know something's up-"

"And so I will teach you how to act as a well-mannered boy of noble heritage and give you too much knowledge about dinner cutlery," Malfoy finished, sounding as if he had already secured Harry's agreement on the issue.

"In less than a week?" Harry slumped, feeling caught.

"Yes," Malfoy stated firmly, looking much more confident than he had out in the snow field.

Harry moaned tiredly and rubbed his eyes roughly. He wanted to just reject Malfoy's request, but he was – he kicked himself in the head again – he was concerned for Narcissa's well-being as well, and most damningly, she was a huge reason as to why he was alive to make such a choice on this day.

"Give me till tomorrow to think about this."

* * *

"He _what_?!" Hermione hissed angrily over the open flask of hot cocoa she cupped in her hands. She and Harry were seated out at their usual bench by the Lake, cheeks flushed from the biting cold. Harry shushed her anxiously as a passing pair of curious Ravenclaws stared at Hermione's sudden flail of distress. He was starting to think that telling her about the plan was a horrid idea – the conversation panned out a lot better in his head when he was in bed the previous night.

"Yeah, that's what he said," Harry groaned after they were alone again, rubbing his temples in frustration, "I don't know, Hermione, I am kind of indebted to Mrs Malfoy after all."

"Think _beyond_ that, Harry!" Hermione cried out indignantly.

"What?" Harry scratched the back of his head, "About Mr Malfoy?"

" _No!"_ she sighed, placing her flask down before she spilled any of the drink onto herself. Placing a hand against her chest, Hermione counted her breaths to ten, before continuing in a calmer tone, "Okay, okay, Harry, I'm going to walk you through everything that is wrong with this arrangement."

"Um, sure?" Harry ventured curiously.

"How do you even know that letter was from Mrs Malfoy asking for a Christmas dinner?" she started.

"I- Well, I didn't think to check it, it did have the Malfoy seal on the fold though-"

" _How_ can he have such a _huge_ batch of Polyjuice Potion ready at his disposal?"

"Hermione, I've already explained that to you, he was trying-"

"If the Manor has so little defences, what makes you think it's safe for you to go there and not get accosted by a rogue Death Eater?"

"I could get accosted by one any day, Hermione."

Hermione sighed sadly at him. Harry hung his head in apology, twisting his shoe in the snow.

"Do you think it's possible that Malfoy is still linked to Dark activities? You mentioned that he suddenly changed his mind and wanted to befriend you; how do you know he doesn't have ulterior motives?"

Harry's heart lurched sickeningly at that question. It had been something that he was considering, but to hear it spoken out loud in the freezing weather was a blow on its own.

"I don't know, maybe, but it doesn't _feel_ like it-" Harry tried, and he wondered if he was trying to convince Hermione or himself more.

"I really appreciate you wanting to bridge ties after the War, Harry," Hermione urged on gently, "But please don't forget yourself in all of this."

"Remember Snape?" he mused out loud, and he saw a guilty glint in her now forlorn eyes, "We all thought he was up to something Dark for _years_ , but it turns out we were a full circle away from the truth."

Hermione sniffled a little too loudly, and Harry swiftly reached over to pat her on the back.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't mean to guilt trip you," he rambled a little helplessly, "I was just thinking out aloud-"

"Just don't get yourself killed, Harry," she responded almost too quickly, and attempted to smile, a strange feature on her downcast expression, "I'm not ready to leave school for another adventure just yet."

* * *

Harry sat out by himself at the Lake for an extra hour after Hermione's departure.

It was a bit frightening to reflect that for the past seven years of his life, he had hated and assumed the worst of the blond. And now, barely a year after the War, he was contemplating helping him pose as him and return willingly back to a house in which his friends and him were almost killed in.

_But he lied that day and saved me-_

Then again, maybe Malfoy was just horrid at facial recognition and needed vision correction but was too vain to get any help. Harry snorted out loud at that thought, and a flock of birds nearby clucked nervously and took off.

What was the worst that could happen if he didn't go, anyway? Harry had figured that it was just an upset and lonely Mrs Malfoy. He wasn't a stranger to that feeling himself, he mused, recalling all those lonely Christmas nights in the Dursleys' home alone, doing chores, singing under his breath, looking out at the shiny lit houses across the street and wondering what lay beyond Privet Drive.

He pictured Mrs Malfoy sitting alone at her ridiculously long dinner table, with enough food for twenty people and a bubbly large enchanted tree humming carols behind her. How she would think that her son was too caught up in school for the first time in his eighteen years to see her for Christmas as she had her dessert, before lethargically moving to clear away the untouched food and drifting back slowly to her huge bedroom some corridors and stairs away.

Then he imagined himself heading over as Malfoy and getting torn apart the moment he stepped foot into the house by a barrage of Killing Curses and other Dark hexes.

He laughed despite himself, before falling silent and scrunching his eyes up in irritation. The year problems didn't come to find him, he went to look for them, and here he was again, in between a rock and a wall of hungry sharp knives.

* * *

"Hey."

Harry looked up from beating the snow off his scuffed shoes at the sound of that very familiar voice.

"Ron?"

"Yeah," his friend replied, awkwardness swimming in his unsure eyes, "Is this, uh, a good time to talk?"

Harry felt his spirits buoy a little bit, and smiled back, "Of course, I'm just sitting here cleaning my shoes, that doesn't really require much-"

"Oh great," Ron pressed on, appearing extremely relieved at Harry's warm reply, "Look, mom asked if you could come over and join us for the Christmas dinner at The Burrow?"

Harry blanched, "But, um, the past few weeks have been kinda rough, uh, on us. Do you really want- I mean, I don't want to make things awkward-"

"Oh no, Harry, I really would like to have you there with us, too," Ron replied swiftly, and his honest sincerity was starting to dig away at Harry's heart. Harry scrubbed his shoes more roughly and his grip on them tightened.

"As I would," he heard another familiar voice pipe up from behind Ron. Harry thought he heard his heart sink into the cold depths of the Pacific.

"If you don't mind Timothy being there as well too, of course," Ginny continued on recklessly, and Harry saw her preen a little from the corner of his eyes. Her eyes were boring into the back of his skull, and he _knew_ she was just waiting for the satisfaction of getting him riled up with the mention of that Hufflepuff boy.

" _Ginny!_ " Ron immediately shushed his grinning sister. For Ron to have picked up an emotional temperature difference in the atmosphere, it must have been a pretty huge change, Harry thought mindlessly as he laced back on his shoes deftly. Maybe the entrance of the common room was a terrible place to have this discussion.

"Harry," Ron said as Harry stood up, "Look, I'm really – okay, I had a good talk with Hermione and I thought it through; I've been a complete asshole to you for these few weeks, and I'm really sorry about that." Ron's face was pulled into a shamed grimace, and he was flushing as red as his hair.

"Ron, I was just as much of an ass about this whole thing," Harry responded silently, glad to have his best friend back. Ron blustered a bit and grinned back hugely at Harry.

"So you're coming for dinner then?" he rambled excitedly, "Dad's been working on the garden so we have cooler things to do there now after the meal besides punting gnomes."

"Um," Harry bit his lip awkwardly. He heard Ron take a huge intake of breath at the unexpected hesitation.

"Ron, I can't stress how happy I am for us to be friends again," Harry said slowly, trying to think through his words as carefully as possible, "But I already made plans for that day. It's nothing against you, I promise you. I'd have definitely come along if I could."

"Oh," Ron's face fell, and Harry found himself wondering if he had made a wise choice. He again pictured himself dying in torturous pain in his own blood in the Manor as the Weasleys had their annual warm Christmas gathering.

"Sure, I'll let mom know," he said quietly.

"I'm really sorry," Harry repeated, not wanting to lose his friend again, "I'll send some gifts your way before the dinner? Perhaps your mother could take a break from knitting those sweaters this year, too."

Ron chuckled lightly at that, and Harry felt a little more relieved, though still extremely wary of Ginny's unblinking observation of their exchange.

"So, ah, who're you spending Christmas with, if you don't mind me asking?" Ron winked at Harry, his forwardness and the twinkle in his eye catching Harry off-guard. Ginny perked up at the dredging up of this topic.

"I-"

"Harry, if you're uncomfortable with Timothy being there, I could just tell him not to go this year," she simpered sweetly, "I really do want to see us all getting along again."

Ron took a step back and looked nervously between Ginny and Harry, as if worried that he had not picked up on some unresolved tension.

"I'm just not going because I'm booked for that day, that's it," Harry replied steely, hoping that he sounded as unambiguous as possible, "I'd go if I were free, as a friend."

A look of discontent played itself briefly across Ginny's features. Ron seemed eager to end this increasingly awkward exchange as more people were starting to stare at the three of them.

"I'm going out for a quick stroll," Harry said, edging toward the portrait door.

Ginny looked hesitant to let him off just yet; she was clearly not done with this topic. Ron, however, looked overwhelmingly relieved to close this exchange.

"You do that, Harry," he beamed with a hand firmly clasped on Ginny's shoulder, holding her back, "Breakfast tomorrow, alright?"

"Absolutely," Harry genuinely smiled back, quickly ducking out of the dormitory.

* * *

"So what's your decision?" Malfoy paced around his desk, in jitters. His cold hands were tucked into his pockets, and Harry watched this rare display of nervousness with much bemusement.

"I guess I'm going."

Malfoy emitted a high-pitched screech of delight and Harry kicked him out of instinct, covering his ears and wincing.

"Oh good Merlin, I'll pen that reply to Mother now!"

"Wait!" Harry grasped him and jerked him away from the parchment.

" _What?!"_ Malfoy sighed exasperatedly, "If you want to negotiate profits, Potter, we'll deal with that after I've sent this letter!"

"Promise me this is nothing Dark or shady," Harry said, bringing his face extremely close to Malfoy's pointy one. Malfoy struggled and tried to shift away from the unwelcome proximity, but Harry held him still. He had a good mind to take out his wand for extra measure, but he didn't want to tip Malfoy over too much.

"It's just a dinner with my mother, Potter," Malfoy said tiredly.

"Did you know I'm dropping dinner with the Weasleys to do this? I don't really want to end up in five pieces when I could be having a good turkey pie elsewhere."

Malfoy tsked loudly and wormed himself out of Harry's grip.

"If you'd rather see the Weasleys than help me when I really need it, and if you _don't trust_ me, then so be it," he replied coldly. Harry could sense a long barrage of a rant coming up.

"I just want to be sure that what I'm getting into is really-"

"Yes, _yes_ it _is_ safe!" Malfoy seethed, clearly trying to rein in his temper so that he did not scare Harry off from agreeing, "Unless you poke your eyes out with the soup spoon or choke on treacle, there will be _no_ deaths!"

Harry stared blankly at the sullen boy in front of him.

"Okay."

"Say it again, Potter," Malfoy whispered uncertainly, "There's no changing your mind after this, not even if you decide that abusing gnomes in a garden of weeds is the best sport of the century when you wake up tomorrow."

Harry held back a laugh.

"Okay, I'll _help_ you," he repeated.

A quill was flourished dramatically, and his fate was sealed a few minutes later with the wax stamp of the Malfoy family crest.

"I'll see you tomorrow to start, then," Malfoy said a little breathlessly.

"I guess," Harry said, feeling as if he were in a very strange dream. He stumbled to the door, still in some shock from what he had agreed to. He thought he heard a small reluctant " _Thank you Potter"_ as he shut the door sluggishly behind him.


	9. A Slow Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This must be one of the more prompt updates for this fic (!) Thank you really, to anyone who reads this, and especially to those who follow this fic despite the lags between chapters!

"So who is it you're seeing after this?"

Ron eagerly pressed the question for the fifth time during breakfast. Hermione looked quickly between him and Harry, a fleeting anxiety in her eyes. Ginny stiffened and ate deliberately slower, staring unblinkingly at Harry. Harry cleared his throat, uncomfortable from all the attention. He could feel some other housemates looking curiously their way.

"A new friend," he finally replied, and smiled wanly into his sandwich.

"I _know_ that," Ron groaned, jabbing Harry at his side, "But _who_?"

"They're a bit shy," Harry wrested a grin out, hoping he did not look too suspicious.

Ginny stirred her coffee nonchalantly, still looking straight at Harry.

"Is it a girl?" she smiled with a bit too much teeth on display. Harry wondered briefly if that would be the next form of his Boggart.

"Uh-"

"I was wondering about this portion in our Charms text," Hermione abruptly and very loudly started. There was a loud silence after her sudden proclamation as the three of them frowned at her. Blushing slightly, she gave Harry a kick under the table, glaring at him. Harry gaped mindlessly at her, not realizing the opening she was trying to make for him till it was too late. Awkwardness gradually filled the stale air around the four of them, and Harry shut his mouth and looked back down at his plate, feeling daft and deflated.

" _Is it the blonde girl?"_ Ron whispered as he nudged Harry; clearly he hadn't picked up on the change of atmosphere this time, " _It's alright if it is."_

Harry scrunched his eyes up really tightly.

"I'm sorry, I have to leave now," he gasped out quickly. His mind was whirring from the sharp morning daylight and a lack of sleep; if he stayed a minute longer, he was going to find himself in a well too deep to scramble out of. Harry swiftly swung his bag over his shoulder and shot his friends a last apologetic look before striding away.

Ron, still not having picked up on the prickliness of the topic, yelled after him, "You can't hide your friend forever, Harry! Not the way Malfoy's been hiding away in his Manor cave all break!"

Harry stumbled out of the Hall and collapsed momentarily onto the ground once he was out of sight, laughing uncontrollably.

* * *

The pungent smell of Polyjuice slapped Harry across the face like a brick bat when he entered Malfoy's room. Harry wheezed loudly, covering his nose with his robe as he reluctantly moved in. Harry tripped over a stray cushion in the dark and cussed under his breath as he glared at the shaded window shielding the room from the winter glare.

"Malfoy?" he choked out, his voice oddly muffled by cloth. There was no sign of the blond; only an uncorked flask of the dreaded potion sitting deceptively harmlessly on the desk. Harry was starting to wonder if this was all a bad joke.

" _Malfoy_?" he called out again in frustration, striding around the room. He irritably paced over to the window and roughly pulled the shades up.

The unforgiving morning sun blinded him for a brief moment and he yelped in pain, shifting his other arm to cover his eyes without thinking. He tumbled back ungracefully and flumped onto a human-shaped lump on the bed. The lump writhed and thrashed upon contact, and an annoyed shout emitted from it.

"For Merlin's sake!"

Harry was crudely shoved off the soft bed and fell ungracefully as a heap on the cold floor. A slightly dishevelled blonde head popped up from the piles of thick blanket covers, scowling heavily at him. The face grimaced as the shifting sun rays painted over pointy features. Long blonde hair tumbled down sharp shoulders, and as the body shifted out grudgingly from beneath the sheets, it was revealed to be wrapped in a thin nightgown. A pale arm instinctively and self-consciously went up to cover the chest region.

Still groggy from his lack of sleep last night, Harry momentarily forgot who this was and gawked dumbly at the blonde female. She made to cover herself with the sheets again, but stopped halfway in her motions, as if not wanting to back down.

"Enjoying the view, Potter?" a voice sneered. It sounded fatigued, but its nasal edge was enough to dump a cold pail of realization of who he was looking at over Harry's head.

"It's just been a while since I've seen you like that," Harry said quietly, slightly annoyed with himself and Malfoy. He fixated his gaze firmly on an unlit spot on a wall next to the bed. Malfoy appeared to _hmph_ softly to himself.

"Well, keep your eyes there," the other boy grumbled, and Harry was more than happy to comply. There was some quick under-the-breath muttering and wand swishing from the bed. Barely a minute later, Malfoy more confidently called for Harry to take the Polyjuice.

"Now, really?" Harry groaned, not wanting to take such a vile concoction so early in the day. He turned back to face Malfoy, and blinked owlishly at him as he stared at his form.

"What?" Malfoy said, frowning and sounding unusually crabby, "Didn't anyone ever tell you it was rude to just _stare_ like that?"

"Why is your hair still long?" Harry asked, confused, "Why're you in a girl's uniform?"

Malfoy looked at him as if he were an irritating fleck of mud he couldn't get off from the bottom of his robes, and deadpanned, "Because I didn't bother fixing it."

"Well, yeah, but why not?"

Sighing loudly, Malfoy crossed his arms and looked, unamused, at Harry.

"Why should I bother today? It would just be depressing, seeing you looking like me with all the right features. I'd feel like a second-rate wannabe of myself, and that's just pathetic."

Harry didn't think he really caught Malfoy's train of thought, but commented casually, "That sounds vain."

Malfoy looked glumly over Harry's shoulder at the toxic smelling flask.

"I suppose you could call it that."

* * *

Malfoy's eyes were bright and sheer with anticipation as he watched Harry lift the potion to his lips. Turning away from the other boy, Harry held his breath as he took a huge swig of the potion. The overwhelming taste consumed him and he dropped to the floor, shuddering heavily. His hands grew cold and shivery, and he flung the flask away to a dark corner shakily. It smashed loudly in the nauseating silence, and he heard Malfoy draw a nervous breath and shift closer to him.

His skin stretched over sharpening features, and he could feel his organs desperately shifting and morphing to try to fit into his rapidly thinning frame. His hair seemed to grow limp (he laughed internally at that despite the pulsating pain all over his body), and he felt its sleekness brush against his face. On his forehead, he was certain his scar was being stitched away into a flawless complexion. Suddenly remembering, Harry hastily jerked up the sleeve covering his now milky white left forearm. He pulled it up just in time to see the Dark Mark blossom steadily over the previously unmarked flesh.

His stomach abruptly squeezed helplessly, and he vomited his breakfast out onto the floor as the world hurtled into complete darkness.

* * *

" _Potter, Potter…_!"

A clammy hand slapped his face and he jolted awake, bumping his head against the other's confused body.

"Sorr-oh," Harry fell silent as he looked around him, gradually recalling what he was here for.

" _Sorry?!"_ Malfoy hissed angrily, and he turned back to face the furious unnatural female form of the other boy, "I thought you died on me or something! I was almost starting to plan my escape from this castle and your cold dead body!"

Harry bit back a bubbling laugh and he patted Malfoy awkwardly on the shoulder.

Without warning, Malfoy brought his face extremely close to Harry's, his breathing more stable now. Harry tried to pull back from his insistent gaze, but Malfoy held him still. He was close enough for Harry to see flecks of Narcissa's blue in his strange grey eyes, and that previously invisible speck of a blemish on his right cheekbone.

"Good," Malfoy whispered after a while, drawing back finally, "You look just like me."

His last few words hung with an odd sense of pride in the air, and he levitated a mirror over for Harry to examine the results.

Harry startled at first when he saw his reflection. A clearly more masculine Malfoy stared back haughtily at him. He tentatively lifted a hand and ran it through the fine blonde hair to convince himself that this reflection _really_ was him as of now. Then he studied his reflection again, and pulled the mirror aside to look at Malfoy. Then back to the mirror, and back to Malfoy's suddenly very apparently female and foreign face and body.

Malfoy caught on to what he was doing. Almost bashfully, he gazed away from Harry, tugging somewhat furiously at the ends of his now long hair. But he must have still been watching Harry from the corner of his eye, for when Harry broke into a wide beaming smile at the mirror (out of curiousity, really, Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Malfoy smile properly), he called out loudly in protest.

* * *

"You're doing rather well," Malfoy commented hopefully an hour and a half later.

"Not much to learn for conversation if I'm not going to be expected to do very much of it," Harry grinned, liking that this was starting to seem easier than he had thought it would be.

Malfoy cautiously smiled back at him.

* * *

By the time lunch came, the potion had worn off and the room was filled with the pleasant smell of decently cooked food, much to the relief of both.

"It's _this_ knife," Malfoy said rather bossily, knocking the one in Harry's hand off.

"Why'd you pick lunch to teach me about cutlery?" Harry groaned over the sound of his growling stomach. Malfoy had insisted that he not start eating till he could remember at least half of the cutlery instructions (it was more motivating this way, he had argued). Harry was starting to regret to agree to such a condition, and was sure that he'd pick up this onslaught of information much faster if Malfoy just let him eat some of the food first.

"Because, _Potter_ , it's a meal and you'd learn better by practising during one," Malfoy sniffed. Harry watched with jealousy as he took a large scoop of mashed potato. He scowled heavily and shot back, "You're not even using the right spoon there."

Malfoy glanced down at the metal spoon in his mouth and looked like a deer caught in headlights for a fleeting second. He mumbled some hasty excuse about a test, discreetly nudging a bowl of fruit over to an appeased Harry.

* * *

Malfoy had grudgingly allowed Harry to occupy a side of the large bed post-lunch during their break. Harry didn't think he had ever had such a strenuous lunch in his life and lazily watched nearby clock tick away to 3.35pm, glad for the opportunity to rest. Bored after a while, he flipped over to the other side to look at his strange afternoon companion.

Malfoy was lying atop his layers of warm blankets, his shoulders propped up against a soft wall of pillows and legs crossed over each other; engrossed in a book about wizarding lineages. He was a fast reader, Harry noted as Malfoy deftly flipped through pages, eyes steadily traversing across the text. He was probably rather smart underneath all that snootiness, and Harry reckoned now that part of his huge dislike for Hermione was losing out academically to her.

_Beyond her dirty blood, of course,_ Harry emptily thought as he spotted a small Malfoy crest engraved on the bookmark the other boy was holding on to. Not wanting to spiral into another existential crisis on a perfectly pleasant December afternoon, Harry pushed it to the back of his mind for now. He lay in solitary quietness for a while, stretching himself comfortably across his side of the bed and watching the white sunlight dapple itself over furniture. Occasionally, he would glance over to check on Malfoy, wondering if it was a good moment to strike up some conversation to kill his boredom.

After a while, seeing that Malfoy was still completely absorbed in his reading, Harry edged closer to his oblivious form. The other boy seemed to not acknowledge or realise his nearer presence now, frowning slightly in concentration at his book. Harry started gently tugging away at the blankets below Malfoy, figuring that he might as well try to get something comfortable to roll around on.

Malfoy did not react as Harry carefully continued pulling out a blanket from beneath him. Harry ducked under Malfoy's book to stay out of his line of vision, cautious not to get whacked by Malfoy's crossed legs. He swore internally as he tried to extract the portion of blanket securely held in position by Malfoy's bum. Gritting his teeth, he tried to jerk it out harder, but to not much avail.

Being in such close proximity to _that_ area of Malfoy, Harry found himself wondering distantly how _it_ was down there. Not in a sexual way, no, he thought, but out of pure curiosity. Did the spell _really_ change Malfoy into a physical female? He recalled the night Malfoy had shown him his hexed body, but he didn't, well- Harry grimaced a little for thinking such thoughts- he wasn't sure if it worked the way a girl's body should.

"I know you're a hot-blooded 18 year old boy, but _please_ stop trying to look up my skirt, Potter," Malfoy sneered from behind his book. Harry flushed fully at that statement, feeling more awkward than he could remember feeling for a while and wanting desperately to deflect attention away from himself. Without thinking, he roughly pulled the blanket from beneath Malfoy with all his strength toward him.

" _Fuck!_ " Malfoy shrieked as his book tumbled out of his hand as he was jostled along with the motion of the blanket. He collided clumsily into Harry, sprawled chaotically over him. Harry gulped unconsciously as he found himself becoming increasingly aware of Malfoy's rumpled skirt and the amount of pale skin that was on display in front of him, and of the softness of the female body against his and of the breasts-

"What is _wrong_ with you?!" Malfoy snapped as he pulled himself upright, "Ever heard of just asking for permission?"

"Well, I didn't want to disturb you-" Harry started, heart pounding madly against his ribcage. He was frantically trying to keep himself focused on Malfoy's angry face but he could feel his attention slipping back to other things. He groaned quietly to himself and covered his face in frustration, willing these new and very disturbing sensations to go away.

"Merlin, Potter, _whatever_ , have the stupid blanket, I'm going back to my book," Malfoy replied snarkily, rolling his eyes. With his attention diverted, Harry peered at the figure sitting atop him through the gaps in his fingers. He found himself again watching intently as it arched to the left to retrieve the crumpled blanket, and his eyes trailed down from the curve of its back to the slightly gleaming skin of thighs and the hint of dark panties covered barely by the still creased skirt.

He realized damningly that blood was rapidly going to an area down south close to where Malfoy was seated, and whimpered internally. Malfoy was in fact turning back to face Harry with the blanket already, but to Harry, everything seemed to be moving in slow-motion as his arousal kicked in. He could no longer really tell if he was imagining the sensation of thighs squeezing his hips as Malfoy shifted back with the bundled blanket, or if the uniform shirt was looking more snug and translucent than he had ever thought it did.

His mind leapt back to the night where Malfoy had testily shown him his cursed body, and a pang of guilt hit him as he became aware of the unexpected sensual tone it now took. It did nothing to suppress his physical excitement; in fact it was quickly driving it off the deep end. He gasped a little too loudly as he glanced down at his pants, noticing that the fabric was horrid at hiding this sort of problem, and the extent of _his_ problem.

_Fuck, fuck_ -

Without consideration, Harry flung Malfoy off for the second time in the hour crassly, quickly sitting up and drawing the blanket over his bottom area. Malfoy bounced painfully on the bed and almost fell off it from the force, but managed to catch himself in time.

" _Potter, what the fuck?_ " Malfoy snarled, hands white from gripping the bedsheets, looking ready to stab Harry's eyes out, "What's gotten into you?!"

"I- I dunno," Harry breathed out, face still hot and currently furious with himself, "I don't- I think I'm going to head back to the dormitory first-"

"But we still have so many things to go over!" Malfoy cried, anger seemingly dissipating as exasperation now splayed itself across his face, "And we don't have much time, just another hour, Potter-"

Harry sucked in his breath, and shook his head resolutely. He rapidly scrambled off the bed and bolted out of the door, hoping against hope that Malfoy didn't spot anything amiss. He guessed that Malfoy didn't, because he didn't hear a jeering sneer; only a furious and stressed out yell as he shut the door shakily behind him.

* * *

Harry didn't go for dinner that night. He lay in bed in cold sweat, hidden under his blanket.

_What the hell was that?_

He groaned in frustration, gripping his pillow more tightly like a bolster. He didn't know how or even if to face Malfoy again.

* * *

Much to Ron and Hermione's chagrin, Harry insisted on spending the day by himself again. He could see the sneaky curiosity in Ginny's eyes and the barb in her tongue when she not-so-subtly asked him if things weren't going so well with his _friend_.

_Whatever,_ Harry thought tiredly as he jogged down the corridor out of the castle. He didn't sleep very much at all the previous night, torn between visualizing the episode on the bed and overwhelming waves of guilt for feeling anything then. He hung his head in shame and dug his hands deeper into his pockets, walking more slowly now.

A shock of long blonde hair passed him by out of nowhere, and he startled immediately, heart oddly thudding fervently against his chest again. Whipping around in a blur, he called out without second consideration, " _Malfoy!"_

The figure stopped moving and cautiously turned around, with bright and careful blue eyes.

It was not Malfoy.

Harry threw himself off a very high and dangerous cliff in his mind.

"I'm sorry, what did you call me?" Luna said quietly. Her question reverberated around the very empty corridor. The winter sun played itself off her face, and made her seem more ghostly than usual.

"I, uh- it's nice to see you, Luna; I haven't really seen you much this semester," Harry babbled, scratching the back of his head. He stepped back, wanting to leave the area as soon as possible.

Luna took a few steps forward and his heart plummeted in desperate fear.

"You called me _Malfoy_ ," she mused dreamily, "Are you having him on your mind? Strange though, isn't it, that he should take a form of a female this time?"

Harry looked around nauseously, extremely afraid that someone would overhear this damning conversation. The coast was thankfully still clear.

"You must've been mistaken," he said shakily, and Luna raised an inquisitive eyebrow at that, as if she knew he was lying. It made him very, very uncomfortable, and he wished that there were spells to help him dissolve into the ground, away from this very overwhelming conversation.

"Well," she plowed on, her voice dropping into a whisper now as she edged closer to Harry, "I've heard things, yes, that something Dark is afoot."

"I hope they aren't Nargles," Harry laughed uncertainly, not sure if this was going on to the next issue of The Quibbler.

Luna's laugh twinkled in the cold air, but her face quickly turned deathly serious again.

"I've heard things," she said solemnly, "Not seen them yet, but they're growing." She swept her hair behind her ear, and Harry dully watched the radish earring bob with the movement, not liking where this conversation was headed to.

"Malfoy," she continued, as if in deep thought, "A name to keep in mind."

Harry stared disconcertingly at her.

"Are you trying to accuse Malfoy of being an active Death Eater?" he said, feeling a little more hot-headed than he probably should.

Luna stared back at him with wide eyes, as if taken aback by his emotional confrontation.

"I said no such thing," she said calmly, eyes drifting away to something possibly floating away to a nearby window, "Have a good day, Harry. I have a relative of the Blibbering Humdinger to find."

* * *

Harry swore as he paced irritably around the area near his bed.

"You okay there?" Ron asked tentatively from his bed.

Harry stopped circling the floor and looked up from his shoes to face his friend in shame.

"I- I guess not," he said after a while, hoping that he wasn't blushing too hard.

"Wanna share?" Ron prodded on carefully, placing his Quidditch magazine down.

"Not particularly," Harry replied defensively, scared of letting on more than he should. Ron looked curiously at him.

"It _is_ about a girl, isn't it?" he pondered out aloud, moving to the edge of his bunk to stare at Harry more intently.

Harry tugged his hair, grimacing.

"Does it really matter, Ron? I'm just not having a particularly good time right now," he muttered under his breath.

"Well, you could tell me if it is, and we can talk about it," Ron offered helpfully, "If it's a bloke though, then I dunno, I mean, you got me. Dump that useless friend and let's go hang out already!"

Harry scrunched up his face to hold back another anxious laugh.

"C' _mon_ ," Ron encouraged him, as if sensing that he would let the cat out of the bag soon.

Settling himself on the floor and covering his face with his hands, Harry figured that he could go about this without revealing the identity of his problem, whilst still getting some advice. His shoulder slumping, he spilled reluctantly, "Yeah, I _guess_ you could call it a problem with a girl."

Ron chortled loudly and punched the air, causing Harry to blink in surprise. He hadn't really gotten his head around the idea of Ron actually being _okay_ with him seeing anyone but Ginny, but perhaps he had underestimated his friend's generosity. He averted his eyes away from Ron for a moment out of guilt.

"What's the deal? Don't know what to get her for Christmas?" Ron sat cheerfully next to him, patting him exuberantly on his shoulder. Each pat felt, to Harry, like a push down to a very, very deep grave.

"No," Harry scowled, and Ron held his hands up and mouthed " _no offence"_.

"I just-," Harry started, and covered his face again as he felt it burning in shame again, "I don't know, I didn't think; well-"

Ron was nodding as he stumbled over the paths of his words, egging him on to reveal the final truth.

"Merlin, I don't think I _like_ her that way, but I think, I don't know, my body-" Harry sputtered, feeling as if his ears were on fire by now. He had come to the realization the past few days that he actually wasn't really versed in this topic; he might actually prefer to face Voldemort another time than try to confront his emotions about it.

Harry trailed off uselessly and licked his dry lips. There was a very brief silence between the two friends, and Harry felt light-headed just from it. Quickly he pushed himself off the floor and rolled into his bunk, feeling like it had all been a huge disastrous mistake and mumbled, "Just forget about it, Ron, I don't know what's up with me-"

"Dude," Ron muttered, walking over to his bunk, "It's alright, I get what you're trying to say."

Harry looked up helplessly at his slightly flushed friend and raised an eyebrow.

"Is she into you?" Ron said, squatting besides Harry's bunk, looking as if he were trying to take care of a very small and fragile animal. Harry snorted internally.

"Nah, probably not," Harry laughed, the ridiculous image of a scantily-clad female Malfoy pawing his body relentlessly setting off dozens of awkward responses in his mind.

"Ah," Ron pursed his lips pensively for a second, "Well, then just woo her and see where it goes."

Harry squinted at him. "What? Ron, I said just now I don't think I like her that way," he sighed.

"But you guys are friends, right?" Ron said, in a very matter-of-fact tone that reminded Harry too much of Hermione, "And you find her attractive, so why not just see where that can take you?"

"Because it's more complicated than you think," Harry moaned, rolling away from his friend and glumly facing the wall.

"No, it isn't," Ron said firmly behind him. He heard Ron shift back to his bunk and dig through one of his ratty old bags. There was a triumphant shout after a minute, and he felt a large rectangle box hitting him on his shoulder.

"What?" Harry jerked his head back to see what Ron was up to.

"Chocolate!" Ron cheered happily, "I got this for Hermione, actually, but I can always get another box."

"Uh, thanks," Harry said, bemused, taking it and making to unwrap it. Ron squawked indignantly at that and snatched the box back.

"Not for you, silly!" Ron snorted, "Give it to that girl, first thing in the morning. You've gotta sort this out before whatever you guys have planned for Christmas, keep things on target and all that!"

Shaking with uncontrollable laughter, Harry accepted the box back. Ron looked at him with a slightly insulted sheen in his eyes.

"You don't think sincerity's a good plan?" he huffed, crossing his arms indignantly.

"I-," Harry guffawed, wiping the tears from his eyes, not knowing how to and not wanting to explain further, "Okay, okay, I'll try. But I can't guarantee that I won't eat it all before seeing her, out of nerves-"

Ron took his pillow and hit Harry hard over the head with it, "That box cost me _ten_ galleons, and it wasn't made for consumption by some undeserving _bloke_!"

Harry shrieked even louder in laughter from all the crass irony, rolling under his blanket to avoid Ron's mock-aggressive barrage of pillow blows. The world was forgotten momentarily.

* * *

Unfortunately, Harry awoke the next morning; with urgent sunlight in his green eyes after a flustered blurred dream, the box still next to him and a growing anxiety only he could feel in his heart amongst all his soundly sleeping dormitory mates. He laughed quietly at himself as he grudgingly turned his face away from the accusatory sun beams. Perhaps, he mused, he should just stay in bed for today, possibly tomorrow, and maybe the whole of forever. It was far easier than facing what lay beyond his bunk.


	10. General Nature

"- _sorryhavethesechocolates_."

"What?! For Merlin's sake, Potter, you had-"

Harry stared back stiffly at the raging blond in front of him, box of chocolates perched awkwardly on Malfoy's tardy ebony desk. He swore he had an eloquent speech prepared in his head on the way over, but the moment the door swung open to reveal a very flustered female Malfoy, it had decided to crawl and die in some dank corner of his mind.

"-and are you trying to say that _I_ should be _punished_?" Malfoy finished his rant, angrily tossing his long hair behind him.

"Hang on a second, I said no such thing-", Harry started, feeling offended.

Malfoy contemptuously pointed at Ron's beloved box of chocolates, and sniffed snootily, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, I brought it as a form of apology," Harry said dully, wondering if Ron had scrawled _doofus_ or something juvenile on its cover without his prior realization.

"Father used to give me these as a form of punishment," Malfoy spat irritably, "It's almost equivalent to Mudblood choco-"

"Hey, that cost _ten_ galleons!" Harry snapped back, jabbing a finger at Malfoy's chest as he echoed Ron.

"That's the problem," Malfoy shrugged dramatically, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"You want to know what the _actual_ problem is?" Harry seethed, trying to keep himself together. Malfoy must have sensed his quickly bubbling rage because he took a frightened step backward, looking a lot more submissive.

"The actual problem is that _you're_ the one acting _so_ entitled, when you're actually asking a huge favour of me, one that I can, you know, _drop out of any time I wish to_ ," Harry hissed his last words, his fists balled. He turned to make for the door, thinking that it would be better to remove himself for a while before he bulldozed the situation further with his fury.

"No-!" Malfoy gasped behind him, forcibly tugging Harry back into the room, "Potter, I didn't mean to-"

Harry spun around reluctantly and came face to face with Malfoy's bright, pleading eyes.

"Did you befriend me just for this? To get someone to help you with your Christmas problem?" Harry asked tiredly, gesticulating between them and around the room. Malfoy blinked a quick few times at the bluntness of his question.

"No lying or beating around the bush," Harry said, a little coldly. He saw that working light in Malfoy's eyes dim, as if the story being crafted on his sharp tongue had been discarded.

"-kind of," Malfoy muttered, lowering his gaze.

Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes exhaustedly.

"But we got along better than expected," Malfoy plowed on, hope tinged in his light voice, "Doesn't that count for something?"

Harry barked out a sarcastic laugh at that.

"I don't know, Malfoy, maybe in your family's circle that counts for something," he said, thin-lipped, "But I'm not sure I'd readily count a friendship that was forged out of convenience for yourself."

He wasn't sure if that was hurt that was brewing behind Malfoy's expressionless mask.

"I enjoyed your company," Malfoy repeated, a foreign docile look on his feminine face, "I mean, _I_ wanted to be your friend from the very start, why wouldn't I, really?"

"You're really going to draw a card that's that old out?" Harry inquired, squinting his eyes.

"People change through days, and many things I felt when I was eleven feel like they've been laid to rest in another lifetime," Malfoy said distantly, pacing slightly away from Harry; Harry could almost feel his stuffy Pureblood upbringing pouring out around the room, "But through it all, I don't think my admiration for you has ever really faltered, Potter."

"That doesn't change the fact that you approached me out of desire to fix your own problems and had no trouble acting like a pompous arse the whole time," Harry replied flatly, feeling almost a little plebian for replying Malfoy in such a direct way.

"But _you_ enjoyed my company too, right?" Malfoy walked back to face Harry, sounding displaced. Harry had the distinct feeling that they were talking about different things.

"Yes," Harry said through gritted teeth, "But- you. Are. Still. An. Asshole."

"Okay," Malfoy breathed, as though in pain. He mumbled something under his breath, cheeks tinging the colour of ripe pink candy floss. Harry felt like he knew what Malfoy had said, but he wasn't going to deprive himself of the satisfaction of hearing it out loud.

"I didn't catch you," Harry said, a smile playing itself on his words.

Malfoy shuddered, and then looked straight into Harry's eyes. The words rang crystal clear throughout the silent room, and their unexpected honesty made his stomach do a funny double flip. His mind raced as he wondered if he's the first to hear them said by the other boy this way.

"I- I am very- _sorry_ for hurting you _,_ Potter."

* * *

It was almost like a strange lucid dream, Harry thought, buying presents for the Weasleys with Malfoy just two days before Christmas. Just after the awkward apology, Malfoy had been too lazy to enchant himself to a boyish appearance, and had just slung a huge cloak over himself with the hood drawn low.

He was acting awfully meek, Harry noticed. He quietly watched those pale hands sticking out of that black oversized cloth sift through the readymade gifts in the shop. He was almost purposefully picking presents that were borderline classy and definitely expensive. It was a little endearing at first, but this docility was starting to make Harry feel extremely uncomfortable.

"You can stop going around with your tail between your legs now," Harry muttered as he positioned himself behind Malfoy, out of earshot from the other customers.

Malfoy yelped quietly and shushed himself in a panic, almost knocking a row of glasses over. Harry was pretty certain the shopkeeper was glaring suspiciously at them now.

"You've said sorry, and that's in the past now," Harry continued, patting Malfoy's shoulder briefly, "Stop living in its shadow."

Malfoy stared at him thoughtfully from below his hood.

Harry knew he was back to normal a few minutes later when Malfoy started depositing much cheaper presents into their basket.

* * *

"Should we start rehearsing again?" Malfoy asked nervously, after Harry was done depositing his pile of gifts to a very exuberant Ron at the Gryffindor Tower.

"Let's have a quick drink first," Harry said. He wasn't sure if he was shaking from the late afternoon cold or from the slight nerves he was getting from the oddness of today. Malfoy nodded in almost relief, and Harry wondered if he felt the same weirdness.

He sat himself next to Malfoy on the couch – wishing a bit that the boy wasn't so lazy to go Charm some pants on instead of keeping that damned skirt – and dug out the Firewhiskey that he had bought from Hogsmeade on the way back.

"One glass for each of us," Malfoy said, almost sternly, "No getting drunk till we get things in order."

Harry made a sound of assent and gladly downed his drink, hoping that it would wash away the swirling bizarreness growing in the atmosphere he shared with Malfoy.

* * *

Less than an hour later, they were both hazily swimming in alcohol and guffawing at every stupid small thing they could make out in their coloured swirls of blurry vision.

"This is not g-good," Malfoy hiccupped, brushing his hair out of his warm pink face, "L-let's try to get back on track-"

"Tell me, _Malfooooooy_ ," Harry slurred, ignoring what the other boy had said as he inched closer to the blond, "Do you exchange kisses with your mother before you leave?"

Malfoy scrunched up his face, as if embarrassed by that custom, "Y-yes, and you better b-bloody well do that on Christmas-"

Harry laughed at Malfoy, drunkenly pulling the other boy closer.

"S-should we rehearse that?" Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling as he felt the comfortable warmth of the body leaning against his arm pulse through his veins.

"You dumb or _whhaaat_ , Potter," Malfoy sneered, and it was a funny expression on his wasted face, "D-don't know how to kiss a person on the-the cheek for a s-second-?"

"C' _mooooonn_ ," Harry chided. The last sentient particle of his brain was screaming furiously at him to stop at this point, but the alcohol was starting to paint quite a charming picture of the person in front of him.

Malfoy huffed and pressed a soft, dry kiss on Harry's glowing cheek, withdrawing quickly after that. That brief contact fluttered throughout Harry's body pleasantly, and he felt a little like the part of a dazed schoolboy with a serious hopeless crush. He was pretty certain it was the whiskey speaking by this point.

"I-I'm gonna t-try it now," Harry chuckled lightly, holding a slightly swaying Malfoy in place with his hands. Malfoy mumbled an _okay_ , though with his eyes sliding back to the table, he seemed to want another glass much more badly than rehearsing this stupid act.

Harry pushed himself brazenly against Malfoy, colliding his lips against the other's, barely concealing a loud moan in between. He felt Malfoy kiss back uncertainly before drawing away again.

"Y-you, these are not – feelings, right?" What had to be the most uneloquent sentence Malfoy had ever spoken tumbled out of his mouth, his eyes suddenly looking a bit more clear and anxious.

Harry shook his head firmly, sloppy smile still in place. He thought he saw Malfoy relax at that, and not trusting himself to form a coherent reply, slid a hand down the contour of Malfoy's female body. Malfoy smirked slightly, as if immediately getting the hint.

Malfoy sneered, his legs opening a bit more as he swept his hair back in a swift motion. He unbuttoned the first three buttons of the blouse dreadfully slowly, clearly enjoying the hold he had over Harry.

"Couldn't get a real _girrrll_ for t-this?" Malfoy laughed, voice at least an octave higher as he finally relinquished control over his pitch. He crawled over Harry and gently ushered Harry to lie down against the soft couch, looking like a very smug white cat.

Harry, sensing in his daze that Malfoy was game to push on with this, hurtled on with this precarious dance. Recklessly, he slid a clammy hand up Malfoy's shirt from his thin waist, eyes locked at the sight of that wonderfully warm body he was feeling up. The fireplace leapt and crackled even more brightly, and with the alcohol coursing through his head, Harry thought his body was going to melt apart from the intoxicatingly burning sensations rippling through it.

"Y-you're real enough to me," Harry breathed out, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as his hand finally found its way around Malfoy's – _what an eccentric thought indeed_ \- bra-clad breast. He heard Malfoy gasp at the contact and the blond's body shudder, and wondered if he was going to stop their little game now.

"Better k-keep that shit in your p-pants," Malfoy panted, and Harry immediately opened his eyes in disappointment, letting his hand fall limp. Malfoy groaned at the loss of contact and grasped Harry's hand, wrenching it back to his gloriously soft skin.

"B-but you d-don't have to stop this," he purred with a half-choke, as if confused by how his body was reacting.

_Wouldn't blame him_ , Harry thought with a half-smile.

" _Selfish prick_ ," Harry muttered under his alcohol-stained breath as he pulled Malfoy's bra off. Malfoy mock-pouted, and had the cheek to grind himself against Harry's very obvious arousal for a hasty second. Harry moaned loudly in response, jerking slightly; and hands still massaging the ridiculously soft flesh under the shirt, pushed Malfoy over so that he was lying atop the blond instead.

Malfoy cried out, the flush on his face seemingly spreading throughout his pale body. Harry grinned triumphantly at that, fingers of his left hand still greedily rolling a stiffening nipple as his right hand neatly unbuttoned the crisp white shirt to fully expose the writhing body beneath him. Malfoy bucked weakly against Harry, but Harry was careful to not make too much contact down there. Just as two days before, that was the only area his blood seemed to be heading to, and he was getting increasingly light-headed from his excitement, but he had to control-

Malfoy's sudden flail of pleasure rubbed Harry's arousal again in the most sickly wonderful way and Harry inhaled loudly, struggling to keep himself afloat in his tidal ocean of lust. The skirt was thrown askew from their movements, and Harry's gaze was locked in curious desire at the sleek panties covering Malfoy's –he wheezed in his perplexed head again-

"Gonna do something about that-?" Malfoy puffed softly, eyes slipping up sluggishly to meet Harry's slightly eager ones. Harry couldn't even churn out a response for that again; he just delightedly ran his hands down Malfoy's vaguely bony body. Malfoy was watching him with real anticipation shimmering in his bright eyes, as if completely unsure about how this was going to work out, of what was going to happen _down there_.

Tentatively, Harry ran a finger over the faintly puffed slit, almost expecting it to turn back into a more familiar appendage. Nothing happened; nothing, save for another muffled cry from Malfoy. Heart thudding deafeningly in his ears, Harry asked, "D-do you want to stop?"

Malfoy stared despondingly back at him, seeming to rack his brains for a response.

He shook his head with wide glowing eyes.

This was going further than he ever had with a girl, Harry realized brazenly, and mused if Malfoy had done more. Probably, since he was some _suave slick Slytherin charmer_ – he quietly imagine rolling his eyes at that thought-

He pulled Malfoy onto his lap now, and rubbed the quickly wetting area of the soft cloth generously. Anxious, he tried to recall as much of what he had seen in those wizarding magazines as he could to keep the lead in this game, but his mind kept drawing up nothing, subsumed by the _very_ likable image in front of him. Malfoy was now pushing insistently back against Harry's hand, and at times his full arousal, rhythmically sounding out his pleasure.

Harry craved so badly to unzip his pants and do- do _more_ with the delightful body bouncing against him, but he _had_ to keep his word. He whimpered in frustration at that. Finally relenting after a while, he firmly pulled the soaked cloth away from Malfoy's body and delved a finger hungrily into dripping warmness. Malfoy threw his head back and whined from the foreign intrusion, hands gripping Harry's shoulders even more unyieldingly.

Sliding another finger in to the tightness, Harry moaned as he started thrusting his fingers in and out of the pulsing warmth. His hand was getting coated with stickiness as his fingers slickly explored the tight, squeezing area, and Malfoy's erratic breathing was starting to be all that he could hear in the cloudy space in his head. His own arousal throbbed, needy, in his constrictive pants, but all he could do was bask in the contact of a smooth body sliding against him, and the blossoming heat consuming his fingers.

"I-I'm going to-" Malfoy gasped softly, mewling with his head against Harry's shoulder as his hips pumped up and down swifter. His hot breath blew brashly against Harry's ear as he choked in pleasure from Harry's relentless motions. Gritting his teeth, Harry thrusted his fingers harder and faster; in some desperation and desire to tear an orgasm from the teasing body in front of him. Malfoy cried out one final time as he at last let himself release against Harry, bucking sweetly against Harry's still aroused body. The walls contracted impossibly tightly against Harry's fingers, coating them one last time and Harry almost thought he was going to have his own release right then, with Malfoy's limp, half-naked body pressing deliciously against his.

"F-fuck-" Malfoy tore himself off Harry, flumping weakly against the sofa. His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and his eyes were shut as he tried to catch his visibly escaping breath. His panties were still askew, his blouse still open, but he looked too tired and intoxicated to even care about modesty now that they were done. Harry shivered in pleasure again at the sight of the spent body lying in front of him, before collapsing, exhausted to the other end of the couch. He was still thrumming all over with arousal, but gradually he could feel himself sinking back into acute awareness of his surroundings now. He decided to try to sleep before regret and logical fear took form in his awakening conscience.

* * *

When Harry awoke, the world outside of the awful smelling room he lay in was pitch black.

_How long did I sleep for, fuck-_

He blinked rapidly as he tried to clear his confused, whirring mind. There was a slow burning headache at the back of his skull and he was starting to feel nauseous from how badly the room stank of alcohol and rank se-

A tired groan and a rustle from the other end of the couch swung back into his consciousness what exactly had occurred. Hurriedly, he cast freshening charms into the dank air and himself, straightening out his uniform before he crept over to check on Malfoy.

He instinctively shielded his eyes when he saw that Malfoy was still steadily snoozing in a state of undress. Flicking his wand over the other boy, he buttoned back up his shirt and cleaning up his crumpled skirt. He felt a little like vomiting, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the hangover or because the reality of what he had done with _Malfoy_ was starting to really sink in.

"What's the time?" Malfoy groaned as he stirred from his sleep, his legs cracking a bit at the joints as he got into a sitting position. Harry backed away slightly.

"Too late to do anything," Harry mumbled, suddenly wanting to put a lot of distance between him and the other boy.

It was unfortunate that Malfoy seemed to inherit all of Lucius' uncanny perception of body language, Harry numbly thought, as he watched the blond scowl accusingly at him. Malfoy swung his wand to cast a hangover relieving charm over the both of them, and edged angrily over to Harry,

"Don't get hostile with me. I know we both liked that for what it was," Malfoy hissed, his eyes no longer dusty with sleep.

"You mean the Firewhiskey liked that," Harry argued back. His mind was crystal clear now that Malfoy had cast that spell, and he quickly ran his eyes over the body in front of him, trying to ascertain that _nope, nope- I would never want to bed that-_

Malfoy snorted, and waved his point off.

"So are we going back to preparation?" he asked, as if the afternoon had never happened.

Harry didn't get how he could do that –maybe Malfoy had a lot of casual sex, he figured – but for _him_ _himself_ , Merlin, he felt like he was going to take a while to get over the fact that he had practically barraged his way into copping his first real feel of a female body via a hexed Malfoy.

"I'm sorry, I think I need to go back to rest," Harry said, trying to keep the bile rising in his throat down. He was starting to feel clammy and damp with cold sweat as well, and he didn't want to find out if he was going to puke his intestines out on Malfoy the next time he got too close to him.

"But- "

" _What else is there to learn, really_!" Harry abruptly snapped at a slightly shocked Malfoy, pushing himself off the dirty depraved sofa and moving toward the very welcoming exit, "I'll just see you on Christmas for the potion, alright?"

" _What?!_ ", Malfoy shrieked, momentarily forgetting to control the pitch of his voice and making Harry's mind leap back to how he had sounded in the afternoon. Harry wondered if there were time-limited Memory Charms to erase just one tiny portion of a person's memory, it would do him the world of good now-

"What if Mother asks you to do ballroom dancing or something-"

Harry's mind immediately shut down at the mention of dancing and the possibility of having to hold Malfoy so close again.

"Then I'll just tell her I'm feeling too full," Harry quickly replied, wanting to get out as soon as possible before he collapsed from the now suffocating atmosphere.

"That's just _rude_ ," Malfoy snarled, and Harry had to laugh at that moment despite himself, at the idea of Malfoy even having the audacity to think that anything could be rude, " _Don't_ mess this up, Potter-"

"Maybe I'll just drop out of this then."

" _No_! Merlin, don't you pull that bargaining chip on me again-"

"Then let me have my rest till Christmas," Harry replied back aggressively.

Malfoy fell silent and the exasperation seemed to evaporate off his face. He sat himself down again on the couch weakly and Harry could almost sense the waves of glumness rolling off him.

"Shouldn't have let that happen," Malfoy said quietly, his fists balled in his lap.

He was being purposefully vague, but Harry ventured a guess that they were on the same page.

"Yeah, totally," Harry breathed back with a hand on the doorknob.

Malfoy's gaze snapped back to him like a cluster of piercing silver daggers.

"You started it," he reminded Harry, "So don't you _dare_ go around acting like the victim now-"

Harry let out a shout of frustration, "I just can't believe I did that –that – with _you_ of all people-"

"Oh, so now _I'm_ disgusting, now that you've had your share of me?!" Malfoy yelled back. Harry was briefly worried that anyone passing outside might hear their very, _very_ incriminating exchange.

"Merlin, I don't know – just, this is why I need the break, Malfoy!" Harry said furiously, jabbing a finger at himself, "I need to figure out what the fuck that was, and we aren't going to get anything done in this state!"

"What the fuck that was? That was just groping when we both had too much to drink! It actually is _that_ simple!" Malfoy squinted his eyes at him, as if he were an amazingly daft child, "In fact, if anyone should be traumatized, it should be _me_! Letting another boy stick his fingers into my orifices _that way_ , letting another boy explore a female body with _my_ hexed body, letting another boy treat _me_ like a _girl_ in bed, you-"

Harry briefly racked his brains for a coherent reply, but drew nothing but blanks and _can I leave now, can I leave now-_

Thumping the door with his shaking fist, he just growled, annoyed with empty frustration, at a Malfoy who couldn't get it, at himself for being such an idiot, at both of them for forgetting that _actions always come with consequences_. He found himself choosing the easiest way out again; he wrenched the door open and staggered out gratefully away from that now very stiflingly strange and uncomfortable room, and that wretched body that had tormented him endlessly for the past week.

* * *

On a dull snowy morning a day later, he found himself outside the imposing door again on Christmas itself, an internal blizzard of emotions still raging ferociously within him. He sighed wanly and placed an unwilling hand on the freezing doorknob.

After some hesitation, he pushed the door open.

He was greeted with a temperature as chilly as the outside snowstorm. The fireplace was devoid of wood and flames; the room too oddly still and calm. His breath misted in front of him as he stepped forward, shivering, looking for the other boy.

When he saw the white, prone figure of Malfoy draped carelessly across the sofa, glassy-eyed with his face pointed toward the ceiling, he thought he felt his heart plummet into an abyss. Forgetting his prior confusion and dread, he bolted forward clumsily.

Malfoy was barely breathing and hardly conscious. His silver eyes were glazed glacial, unmoving even as Harry sat next to him. Tentatively, Harry gripped the other boy's arm. It was frigid cold, as if Malfoy _was_ the winter howling outside and battering against the window. Harry's eyes widened in terror, and he casted a hasty warming charm. Dropping his wand with a clatter that echoed far too noisily, he seized Malfoy by the shoulders anxiously and tried to shake him out of his inexplicable coma-like condition.

" _Malfoy, Malfoy, get up-!"_

The ghostly, pale boy stayed limp in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And...that was one of the few sexual scenes I have tried writing; I still feel relentlessly shy penning such content! I hope it flowed okay nonetheless.  
> Again I'm leaving the country for a week or so, but I'll do my best to not let the fic sit on this point for too long- I'm rather excited to move it onwards! Thank you for reading and being patient (with me, and the characters)!


	11. Lucidity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I left this one sitting around a lot, kept fiddling with it till it appeared somewhat reasonable to me. Ugh. Well without further ado-

" _Malfoy, please_ -!"

Harry breathlessly shook the lifeless body in front of him again, hoping desperately for some life to seep back into those hollow grey eyes. His mind raced back to what he had done with Malfoy just a few days ago and on cue, guilt started trickling through the cracks in his demeanor.

_Please don't let this be suicide, please don't-_

The glassy eyes stayed dry and unmoving.

He whined loudly in distress and let go of the body for a brief moment.

And then it rolled over roughly and fell hard on to him, sputtering and shuddering violently. A loud retch emitted from it, and before Harry could react, a huge spurt of vile vomit was slung noisily onto his robes.

Harry just sat there, wincing mindlessly, numbed by shock.

" _Potter-_ "

The raspy gasp from the body pulled him back to full awareness, and he quickly casted a cleaning charm over the both of them. He felt the now extremely warm body shift against his lap in appreciation. Swiftly, Harry tried to pull the wheezing Malfoy upright.

The white skin seared against his own clammy frightened hands as he struggled to pull the bowed Malfoy into a sitting position. Malfoy was _scorching_.

"Look at me," Harry mumbled anxiously to the erratically breathing boy. The wispy long blonde hair fell all over the other's face, obscuring it almost completely. Malfoy drew in an unnaturally sharp breath at Harry's request. Harry squeezed his flaming hand in urgency. The other boy shook – in fear or from his fever, Harry was not sure – and firmly locked his cloudy eyes away from Harry's figure as he reluctantly pulled his head up.

_He has his old face back_.

"I-Christmas Eve, affected hex-"Malfoy sputtered out, as if each word was a fair bit too physically exerting.

Mouth slightly agape, Harry thoughtlessly ran a hand down the side of Malfoy's noticeably bonier and…sturdier frame. The curves that he had burned into his memory from just two nights ago had vanished. His hand dropped ungracefully off Malfoy's body at that realization, feeling a slight and surprising disappointment pool in his heart. He heard Malfoy shift warily against the rough carpet.

" _Not now_ , _Potter_ ," Malfoy blinked painfully at him, milky eyes flickering up to Harry's bright and hesitant ones. Their gazes were held mutual for a fleeting shameful second before Malfoy blacked out against Harry again, his thin body colliding against Harry's chest sharply.

" _Malfoy_ -"

The body slumped back onto the floor like a ragdoll. His heart thudding madly, Harry drew Malfoy's limp body up into a bridal-style carry and fled to the faraway Hospital Wing, hoping against hope that he wouldn't run into anyone.

Still, even in his rush, he did not miss the clumps of long blonde hair drifting down onto the floor beneath his frantic feet. He mused, for that moment, that they reminded him distantly of the last weary snowfalls of end-winter. That thought, along with Malfoy's easily forgettable weight against his arms, scared him more than he would've welcomed it to.

* * *

" _Oh good Merlin_!"

Madam Pomfrey stared wide-eyed at the stricken, prone form on Malfoy lying in the hospital bed. The curtains were hastily drawn over the sickly boy, and Harry was doubled over, hands on knees as he panted loudly from the exertion of rushing over.

"What sort of terrible disease did he contract?!" she tittered as she scurried around him with a flurry of spells. Harry winced as he watched her tug Malfoy upright to force him awake for medication. He wondered if he was imagining some unnecessary viciousness in her movements. There was a loud yelp of annoyance as Malfoy curled up at the side of the bed and heaved his empty guts out onto her.

"I-I'll go get Professor McGonagall," Harry called out quietly from his spot behind the half-drawn shades, remembering what Malfoy had tried to explain in the room earlier. Madam Pomfrey whipped around immediately with a wondering gaze locked onto him, her hand still taking Malfoy's pulse from his left forearm.

"Whatever for, Mr Potter?"

"I-um," Harry stammered, hearing some patients stir awake at this increasingly curious exchange, "I just thought it might be, ah, relevant to his state-"

Madam Pomfrey cocked her head to the side and stared at him thoughtfully.

_Was she not informed of the hex? Why-_

He saw her take a discreet glance at the Dark Mark on Malfoy's milky skin. She shuddered, and he was certain it was not because of the colder temperature or the heavier snowfall today.

"You stay right here, Mr Potter," she muttered before scurrying off, leaving Harry with the creeping feeling that they had been completely misunderstood.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Malfoy lay still looking like he was dying on his hospital bed. Harry was seated tensely next to his body to ensure he didn't stop breathing. At a distant darkened corner of the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall were having an intense hushed discussion. Every now and then, a furtive glance would be thrown over to Malfoy; someone's brows would furrow and the whispering would grow harsher.

"Are they deciding what to do with my dead carcass?"

Clumsily grappling with his seat in shock for a moment, Harry scowled heavily at a grinning Malfoy.

"I hope they are," he snapped dully, watching the boy erratically shake off stray long hair from his scalp. They both looked at the fallen long hair for a brief quiet second, before Malfoy carelessly shoved the small lump of shining blonde hair to the floor. His sweaty bangs and now much shorter hair clung to his forehead sloppily.

"So how do I look?" Malfoy asked as he propped his back against the wall of pillows behind him. He sipped from the cup of water in his clammy hands quickly, and Harry had the impression that Malfoy's throat was probably very parched but he was controlling himself from drinking like a thirsty peasant.

"Like three day old Hippogriff turd," Harry said, smiling slightly. Malfoy frowned, annoyed, at him, but he saw those grey eyes drift to a nearby reflective cabinet to check himself out. Spider-like hands ran over the pale boy's chest gently as his eyes squinted to make out his overall silhouette in the blurry cabinet.

"I'm a boy, now," Malfoy sneered after a few awkward minutes in which Harry felt like some sort of dirty voyeur. He ran his hands happily through his short sleek hair.

"Yeah," Harry replied swiftly, wondering if his tone sounded more deflated than it should be.

"Clearly whatever we did was too traumatic for even the hex," Malfoy snorted with a fuller voice, casually lying back on the bed now that his physical appearance was comforting to him again. Harry eyed him quietly.

"I thought you liked it," he prodded, carefully observing Malfoy's response. Malfoy blinked and looked back up at him.

"I _didn't_ say I didn't," Malfoy rolled his eyes. He was a tad more uncomfortable however, Harry realized, as he shifted himself a little further away from Harry to the other side of the bed.

"Does that make you- I mean, I was technically touching a girl then, but you- well, I'm a boy, and I was feeling you up that way-" Harry started, extremely keen to know the answer to a thought that had been plaguing him for a day and a half now. Despite his incoherence, Malfoy seemed to understand what he was driving at; and he looked even more aloof as Harry stumbled further and further into incomprehensibility.

Malfoy simply shut his eyes in response and rolled to his side, facing away from Harry. Harry mused if that was a cursory blush across Malfoy's chalky skin.

He was positive that it lessened and that Malfoy finally relaxed the moment Professor McGonagall summoned him away from the bedside.

* * *

"I think it's just the process of the hex reversing," Harry shrugged honestly to a visibly distraught Professor McGonagall. He threw a backward glance and they both observed Madam Pomfrey clean up the mess of blonde hair scattered around the bed.

"The hex-? Oh yes, _that_ ," she responded after a while. He could almost see a physical cloud of disorientation hanging over her mind.

"Is there something else that I should know?" Harry pressed on. She evidently was not as skilled as Dumbledore in concealing extra information-that-Harry-should-know-but-we're-going-to-keep-away-from-him-for-now.

"What did you two do to reverse its course?" she ignored his question. Harry grunted under his breath, feeling both a touch stifled and sheepish about revealing their activities.

"Experimented a bit here and there," he answered cautiously, hoping that his face was not turning ruddy.

"Oh, did you?" Professor McGonagall puzzled over out loud. He would've sworn in that very second that there was a dancing twinkle behind her tired worn eyes.

"So is there something I should know?" Harry asked again, more imploringly now, "What were you and Madam Pomfrey discussing about Malfoy?"

Professor McGonagall became solemn again, and he heard her suck in a skittish breath. Her eyes fell back on him, as if scrutinizing him and the question in detail. Harry had to restrain himself from tapping his foot in impatience after a while.

_I'm not a child anymore_.

"We'll be in touch if there is anything of concern, Mr Potter," she uttered formally after a long stretch of a minute. Speedily, she strode out of the Hospital Wing before he could probe further. He remained in his spot, watching the dust, glinting in the white winter sunlight, haplessly drift by him in bleak frustration.

* * *

It was a hushed two hours as Harry sat undisturbed next to a steadily sleeping Malfoy. His lunch lay half-eaten on the cabinet top. Crossing his arms tightly over his chest, he pressed his back against the soft chair. He grimaced as he thought about the night's impending task ( _was it still on?_ ) _._

"Mr Malfoy should be fully recovered by tomorrow morning," Madam Pomfrey said warily, patting his shoulder, "Why don't you run along and join the other students in the Christmas festivities?"

Harry exhaled tiredly. He could, actually, and just leave Malfoy to deal with his mother's dinner by himself, now that he was back to being a boy, but-

"It's alright, I'll just keep this useless bugger right here some company for Christmas," Harry forced a smile out before biting his lip.

"Friends now, you two?" Madam Pomfrey ventured. She hastily retracted that question when Harry shot her a disconcerted look. Excusing herself, she left a few more pills on Malfoy's bedside and a small tea-break before scampering off to attend to the other students.

"Maybe," he breathed perplexedly to himself after she was gone. His eyes never left the steadily sleeping, blanketed boy on the bed.

* * *

Malfoy yawned and stretched himself awake some time after Madam Pomfrey had shown herself away. Harry held his breath; suddenly not daring to make a sound lest he scare Malfoy with a reminder of the awkward conversation they were having hours ago.

The blond sniffed loudly at the scent of fresh coffee wafting from behind him. Groggily, he flipped himself over, coming face to face with a very silent Harry.

"I can leave-"Harry started instantly.

"It's fine," Malfoy spoke in an undertone. Harry was vaguely appeased that he sounded completely like he remembered Malfoy to naturally sound again. The blond boy gladly accepted the coffee that was passed to him.

"What keeps you here, Potter?" he queried with an arched brow, the warm cup snugly cupped in his slightly shaking hands. He appeared to have forgotten their earlier conversation; either that, or he was trying to redirect some of the embarrassment back to Harry, Harry thought.

"Common courtesy," Harry smiled thinly, "I kind of caused this after all."

Malfoy smirked faintly, but Harry was sure he saw a little flame of kindness twirling behind that expression.

"I suppose I do have to say that I appreciate your company on what I thought would be a very lonely Christmas, Potter," he grinned, looking strangely like a hungry Cheshire cat, "And I do so apologise for being such an _awful_ burden." A pale arm snaked toward Harry and he observed in wondrous shock as the thin hand clasped itself around his and gave it a firm squeeze.

"Don't forget my mother though," Malfoy continued, as if he wasn't doing anything out-of-character and didn't have his hand voluntarily inserted into Harry's grasp, "I think you should leave soon." The hand was promptly withdrawn and Malfoy started feeding himself with cookies. Harry sat there in stunned silence before gathering his stuff and bidding the other boy farewell.

"I'll let you know how it goes, tonight, when I get back?" Harry asked uncertainly, fumbling a bit too much with his cloak. Malfoy lifted his now bright eyes to Harry and hmm-ed a noise of agreement in response, before gleefully going back to his cookies.

It only struck Harry later to reflect if that was all a ploy by Malfoy to get him to go without questions. He'd somehow like to think that Malfoy was being well, sincere emotionally with that brief hand-holding though.

* * *

Sneaking back to the common room with the Polyjuice flasks clinking fervently against his body, Harry was extremely thankful to see it empty. Most students, including the Weasleys and Hermione, had likely already left for their dinners; which was fantastic because Harry wasn't sure that he wanted to be caught alive in the ridiculous holiday outfit Malfoy had left with the Polyjuice for the task. It was a fair bit tighter than what he was used to (and a lot glitterier and flashy, reminiscent of fairies in Muggle storybooks). There was a dull feeling at the back of his mind that he might tear it before he even got to the Manor.

The strung Christmas lights were twinkling chirpily, but there was a discernible emptiness in the quiet settled room that made them appear rather gaudy. Harry exhaled loudly and settled himself in front of the glowing fireplace, hands clenched in some fear. Taking one last glance to make sure no one was around, he hastily uncorked a Polyjuice flask and downed its foul contents. He braced himself for the sickening transformation that soon occurred, but found himself writhing on the floor just seconds into it.

_This potion would take anyone an eternity to get used to_.

After what felt like eons, Harry lay panting tiredly against, his cheek pressed fast against the warm carpeted floor and blonde bangs in his eyes yet again.

_Glorious_.

He blinked rapidly to clear his vision (though it did nothing for the burning sensation in his throat) and got up, straightening his robes. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his silhouette. He squinted curiously at the reflection, and walked towards it to examine himself fully.

The cyan blue robes flattered Malfoy's pale skin a thousand times more than they ever did for Harry's Quidditch-tanned tone. The soft glitter sprinkled around his high collar made his eyes shine with a sheen that reminded Harry a little of the pure curiosity and hope from that night. The tightness of the clothes also looked far finer on Malfoy's more slender frame than on Harry's slightly angular and bony one.

"Malfoy sure makes a pretty unicorn," Harry blurted out loud without thinking, words effortlessly drawled out in an almost nasal fashion.

He shook his head to acknowledge the oddity of this whole series of situations before throwing a hefty amount of Floo powder into the hungry fire. It happily enveloped his shaking body as he stepped into it. Clearing his throat a good few times, he shouted his destination out to the desolate room.

" _Malfoy Manor_!"

* * *

"Oh _Draco_ , darling!"

Harry just managed to blink the excess powder of his eyes when he was fully smothered by a flustered Narcissa Malfoy. She sounded like she was sobbing a little, and the hands patting him on his back were shaking.

"I was so worried- _so_ worried- you were late ten minutes and I thought, oh-"

Harry's mind was racing furiously. Malfoy had taught him how to deal with a collected and slightly cold Narcissa, and not one that was barely shambling along with her rushed emotions.

"I, erm, my deepest apologies, Mother," Harry started, trying to keep the wince out of his now pointy face, "I brought you a gift, I do hope it is to your liking." He awkwardly thrusted out the neatly wrapped present to Narcissa, who was still dabbing stray mascara off her lids.

She accepted it with barely an inch of the noble dignity tosh Malfoy had been spouting off on. Placing the gift haphazardly on the side of the table, she dragged Harry right in, sitting him firmly on an ornate chair. Harry cautiously kept his elbows near him and sat straight up, waiting for Narcissa to start on her meal first.

"Oh, please, Draco, do start on your meal," Narcissa sighed, waving a careless hand.

_Is this an imposter?_

The sudden thought struck Harry just as he took his first bite of the fish. He chewed it very, _very_ slowly, half-expecting his vision to go blurry with a green flash of light ending it once and for all.

"Are you not eating, Mother?" Harry prodded carefully, taking his time with chewing the fish. Narcissa looked up at him from her hands. Her face was blanched white and the skin over it looked taut and paper-thin with fear.

"I'm not doing a very good job with keeping up appearances tonight, am I, Draco?" she sniffed loudly, patting her eye area clean of makeup again. Harry's grip on his knife tightened a little.

"Should I just start on what's got me wound up like this? Or leave you to dinner first-"

"Please do share, Mother," Harry said quickly, with as much politeness as he could muster. He desperately wanted to find out if he was in a safe situation, and what exactly was _wrong_ with Narcissa, if it was Narcissa.

She pushed her sleek blonde hair out of her face, and Harry saw some tears glimmer threateningly at the corner of her eyes.

"Well, your father," she choked out a cry, and Harry was all ears and ready to flee now at the mention of Lucius, "He might be in grave danger, Draco-"

A handkerchief was swiftly drawn out of her pocket and she buried her sharp nose into it. Harry fought to keep a suspicious frown off his face.

_Dark matters?_

"Whatever for, Mother?" he asked a little shakily. Luckily, she appeared to interpret that waver in his voice as concern for Lucius' well-being.

"Azkaban," she whispered, edging closer to Harry, her eyes darting around as if frightened that she would be overheard, "Azkaban is falling apart."

"Father- Father is involved-?" Harry asked, his pulse racing, feeling slightly betrayed by Malfoy already. If Lucius was involved in any way with Dark activities again, he swore he was going to just turn the entire Malfoy family into the Ministry-

"Oh, no!" Narcissa sighed pleadingly, "I thought you'd think better of your father, Draco! I, I don't know-"

Harry fell silent and allowed her to collect herself.

_My wand is right here in my right pocket, my wand is right here-_

"He's not involved, at all," she said after a while, slightly more collected, "B-but, he wrote of something, something _Dark_ happening there, and it- it sounds terrible but he didn't have the chance to say more-"

"The last time he wrote to me was a month ago," Narcissa ended solemnly, looking at her clammy hands now, " _A month_."

"But he didn't say exactly what was going on?"

"He said the inmates passed each other rumours, but only some of them claimed that they actually saw anything," she mumbled, looking wretchedly straight at Harry, "But those who ever said they saw anything were taken away the next morning. Probably by Ministry guards, he said that their numbers were increasing as the Dementors were becoming more aggressive."

Harry felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up at the mention of those pallid creatures.

"Father hasn't replied any of your letters since then?" he queried quietly.

She squeezed her eyes close painfully before covering them with her thin hands.

"No personal communication, unless of very urgent matters, is allowed to and from Azkaban anymore."

There was a long pregnant pause as Harry racked his mind for a possible explanation for the alleged Azkaban conundrum. Narcissa, as if used to an uneasy silence after displays of her emotions, simply made to bring over the present Malfoy had given her, and preened it quietly at her seat. Harry looked past her into the huge, proud Malfoy crest carved, with much pain, above the head seat of the table.

And then he remembered.

_McGonagall and Pomfrey at the Hospital Wing! They know something, don't they – that's why they freaked out when they saw Malfoy so ill, and kept looking at his Dark Mark-_

"I- um, Mother, is it alright if I head back to Hogwarts first?"

"So soon, darling?" she said in slight alarm, looking up from the box cupped in her hands, "Draco, I hope I didn't scare you-"

Harry could feel a slight tingling on his scalp and he realized that he didn't have very much time left to appear as her _darling_ Draco. He did have another flask in his cloak, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to take a swig of what clearly was a potion in front of what was clearly an unhinged emotional Narcissa Malfoy.

"I- I need time by myself to absorb this, and uh-," Harry's thoughts were speeding through his mind and he was desperately trying to catch the right train for this conversation, "I have some reading left to do over the break. I'm sorry, Mother, and we'll definitely be in touch often. I'll see you soon, again, definitely."

Narcissa further deflated in her seat but there was a glint of relenting in her cerulean eyes.

Harry did not dawdle around to wait another second to jump into the Floo-tainted flames of the fireplace.

* * *

"You're back early," Malfoy hissed with suspicious eyes, "And with so much stray Powder over you. Did you make a mess out of it and run?"

Harry rolled his eyes and threw his powdery cloak over Malfoy's prone figure on the bed, causing a loud squawk to emit from the blond. Irritated patients tittered and tsked around them.

Drawing his stool near Malfoy's bedframe, Harry placed his elbows onto the soft bed and looked at Malfoy directly. The blond was starting to look a little unnerved.

"Malfoy, when was the last time you heard from your father?"

"Father," Malfoy repeated, looking slightly shocked, "Was he there? Did he visit for Christmas? How is he-"

"Answer the question, Malfoy," Harry said sternly.

"More than a month ago," Malfoy whispered, and Harry could see trepidation clouding his bright eyes, "You heard news of him?"

Scrambling towards Harry, Malfoy peered at him, frightened and trembling. Biting his lip, Harry found that he was shaking a little internally as well. Pushing himself towards Malfoy, he leant in towards his ear, his cold breath misting over Malfoy.

"Azkaban is falling apart. Maybe something- something Dark. Personal communication with the outside world has been cut for a month."

He expected Malfoy to squawk in indignation again and to demand petulantly for more information. But all the boy did was lie back onto his pillows defeatedly and shut his eyes tiredly, before burying his head into another pillow.

Harry sighed at the reticent boy.

"Scoot over," Harry said silently.

Malfoy jerked suddenly at that declaration and stared at him with wide pale eyes. Gingerly, he shifted himself to a side of the bed, watching Harry like a small scared animal. Kicking off his shoes, Harry crawled onto the bed and lay slightly awkwardly on the other side.

"Potter?" Malfoy asked, throat sounding very dry.

"I just thought we both could benefit from a little company tonight," Harry whispered, watching his breath float off into the cold room and the snow fall disconcertingly softly against the windows of the Wing. He felt the body next to him relax a bit, and he took it as a cue to draw the blankets over both their freezing limbs.

Malfoy eventually ended up sleeping with his head a little against Harry's shoulder, face in a bit of a frown and body curled towards him. There was a fleeting flutter in Harry's stomach when he realized that, and it filled him with a small glow that was big enough to keep him up the whole night. He gladly left the darkness and Azkaban at the back of his mind for these few hours.

"A merry Christmas to you indeed, Malfoy," he muttered with a small laugh. He thought he saw a little smile drawing itself over the frown his companion's half hidden face.


	12. Axioms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It's been brought to my notice about twice now that some readers didn't like the way I used pronouns for Malfoy when he was stuck as a girl (i.e. they preferred either full usage of 'he' or 'she'). I do not intend to edit the earlier portions, but I'm sorry about that - it was meant to show Harry's changing view of Malfoy but it probably wasn't conveyed properly. Now on with the story! o/

Awaking the next morning to life was something that Harry did with excessive trepidation. Shakily, he perched his glasses back upon his nose and slowly scanned the Hospital Wing. Malfoy was fully sprawled over his body and still snoozing comfortably, he realized with a jolt.

_Merlin, I hope no one saw this_.

"Get up, Malfoy," he shook the sleeping blond hastily.

There was a small _hmph_ and he was pretty sure the grasp around his waist grew tighter.

"Malfoy, I'm _leaving_."

Scrambling ensued as he chuckled despite himself.

"You're not getting rid of me so easily from now on," Malfoy hissed, and there was the eager clasp of a warm pale hand against Harry's wrist.

* * *

"So, um-" Harry started, some minutes later when they were more awake and slightly more self-conscious about the proximity in which they slept.

"I want to speak to McGonagall and see if she knows anything about Father," Malfoy declared abruptly, crossing his arms across his chest. Harry shot him a side-eye glance and sighed, closing his eyes.

"I was hoping my life really wouldn't come to this again," Harry said, bitterness tinging his tone. He felt Malfoy cock his head to stare at him.

"You don't have to get involved," the nasal voice on his right said blandly, "This doesn't involve you – just because it might be something Dark doesn't mean you _have_ to go out and fight it."

Harry blinked in slight shock.

"I- guess you're- _right_ -?"

"Well of course, I was always right about your hero savior complex. Did you think I was making that rubbish up?" Malfoy sneered, combing his hair neatly.

"I suppose it's because I grew up only knowing how to do that-" Harry tried to defend himself lamely. Malfoy rolled his eyes dramatically and pushed himself off the bed.

"You can introspect all you want, Potter, but I've got some questions to ask our dear Headmistress. Catch you later," Malfoy smirked. He sauntered over to Harry's side of the bed and shot him an odd look.

"I'm going to thank your complex anyway for helping me with Mother," his sneer grew wider, and Harry watched him warily, clutching the blanket for some comfort. Dipping his head, Malfoy hesitated for a brief second before pressing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Harry felt a blush quickly spread over his face from that contact, and he slid a hand to cup that area.

"What?" he croaked stupidly.

"Manners, boy," Malfoy snorted, clearly enjoying the sort of power he appeared to have over Harry. There was a similar pink blotchiness over his pale face, but he hid it well as he quickly turned on his heel and strode out of the Wing.

Harry sat on the bed in amusement, before catching himself and struggling to extricate himself from the sheets.

"You have a lot of explaining to do when I catch you, Malfoy!" he yelled as he pelted messily down the empty corridor after a laughing and running Malfoy.

* * *

"Mr Malfoy! And Mr Potter?" Professor McGonagall looked up from her desk in surprise, "I just received word from Madam Pomfrey – she has been worried that something happened to Mr Malfoy-"

"I'm terribly sorry, Headmistress," Malfoy started lightly, and Harry had to control himself from staring at Malfoy's slick polite tone, "I am completely recovered now and it slipped my mind to inform her that I was leaving early."

"That's wonderful, Mr Malfoy. Now since that's settled," Professor McGonagall peered at him over the top of her spectacles, "Perhaps you two could run along and enjoy a good Boxing Day? Also, Mr Malfoy, you're welcome to keep your current lodging if you'd prefer that."

"Yes, thank you, Headmistress – and well, I came here to enquire about something else, actually," Malfoy continued, and Harry marveled at the way he managed to play with his tone to sound slightly _regretful_ , "I was wondering if you had any information on, or could help me find out my father's condition."

Harry heard Professor McGonagall draw in a deep breath at that.

"Well, I can't say I've not expected this question," she replied slowly, "But Mr Malfoy, surely you understand that I am in charge of matters of this school, and have little say on what happens in the law enforcement department of the Ministry?"

"I am not asking you to appeal for an early release," Malfoy pushed on, and his voice cracked a little to Harry's slight despair, " _Please_ , Headmistress, help me find out how he is doing? My family has no other means."

"We know something is up with Azkaban, something Dark, maybe," Harry added in without much thought. Malfoy and Professor McGonagall's gazes shot to focus on him, and he felt like he was in a searing spotlight; but he continued, "Mal-Draco hasn't heard from him for over a month because they shut off communication."

He wasn't sure if he was imagining the small smile playing across Malfoy's lips, but he was sure that he wasn't misreading the shock on Professor McGonagall's face. Perhaps she hadn't anticipated that Malfoy would have a supporter – or, dare he say, a _friend_ – on this case given his apparent isolation from the whole school.

"I'm very sure it's not an imminent threat," Professor McGonagall replied diplomatically, "If it were, they would have sent word-"

"What if it's Voldemort again? Wouldn't it be better to address the issue quickly and find out what exactly is wrong with Azkaban?" Harry interrupted urgently. Professor McGonagall gave him a very concerned look, and from that look he was sure that if therapy was a thing in the wizarding world, she would have immediately dialed him up for a session.

Malfoy, as if sensing that this conversation wasn't working out in his favour anymore, cleared his throat loudly and tried to start. Professor McGongall swiftly answered Harry, however, "Sometimes magic gets out of hand there, Mr Potter – I won't deny that. But to suggest that it might be a result of the Dark Lord, as horrific as that time was for all of us, sensibly it is a very miniscule chance now-"

"My father's status, please!" Malfoy huffed, biting his lip and frowning at both of them, "I don't really care or know what's up with that blasted prison, I just want to know if he's alive – please, Headmistress!"

Professor McGonagall turned back her wizened gaze to focus on the trembling blond boy. There was a light of what Harry recognized as a sad sympathy for Malfoy. The room was pregnant with quiet consideration.

"Okay, Mr Malfoy," she said gently, and he visibly relaxed at her agreement, "I will write in, and I will let you know as soon as I get an owl back."

* * *

"I should tell Ron and Hermione," Harry guiltily said as they stepped out of Professor McGonagall's office. Malfoy wrinkled his nose.

"Whatever for?"

"I'm pretty sure they'd want to know that something's up with Azkaban," Harry shrugged as he strolled slowly towards his dormitory. Malfoy stood back, and he could almost picture the dappled confusion on Malfoy's white face.

"And what, you three are going to run off again?"

The coldness in Malfoy's voice caught Harry off-guard. He spun around and stared at a despondent looking Malfoy.

" _Don't_ think I don't know what you three were up to, even during the War," Malfoy plowed on, and Harry wasn't sure if that was a tear he saw trembling at the corner of those bright grey eyes.

" _So what?_ " Harry said, a little irritated.

Malfoy took a step forward, "Well for one, it's stupidly dangerous. And how about me?"

Harry's head was swirling with confusion, "What about you?"

He wasn't certain if that was a pout on Malfoy's face.

"Aren't you going to let them know I exist?"

Harry snorted as he took a few steps forward and patted Malfoy's shoulder quickly, "I'm pretty sure they'd never forget your existence-"

Brushing his hand off, Malfoy scoffed, "Of course, Potter. But I meant, to introduce me as your- you _know_ -"

There was a strange tingle in Harry's stomach when Malfoy brought that up. He tucked his hands into his snug pockets and slumped a little.

"Yeah- _yeah_ , I guess I could do that."

Malfoy's beam glowed more gloriously than the rays of a thousand white stars.

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione cried out in joy as he stepped through the portrait. Ron immediately got off his seat and sidled next to Harry, thumping him happily on his back. Ginny shot him a restrained smile. The atmosphere in the dormitory was vastly more comforting than he recalled it being last night.

"Hey guys," Harry grinned widely as he sat down, sinking into the sofa, "Had a good Christmas dinner?"

Hermione opened her mouth but Ron cut through with a loud noise of assent, and, "Of course, but what we all want to know is how all want to know is how _yours_ went!"

A nervous laugh escaped Harry's throat and he felt a blush returning to his face. An unreadable expression crept onto Ginny's freckled face as time seemed to slow down.

"I- I guess I don't mind sharing _some_ of it," Harry said carefully, to the growing pleasure of Ron.

"Could we talk somewhere else though?" he continued, standing up and looking around the common room to make his point. The three of them nodded and got up, making to follow him out of the portrait.

"Um-" Harry swirled around. He ran a hand through his messy hair, and lowly stated, "Only Ron and Hermione for now? Sorry, Ginny."

Ron and Ginny quietened down as his request and were still. A frown crossed Ginny's face, "Am I not even a friend now?"

_Great_.

"I didn't mean to imply that," Harry replied tiredly, "I'll share it with you another time or something, maybe. It's because – well –"– he stuttered momentarily under her steely gaze- "There's something I kind of need to share with only Ron and Hermione."

Ginny stood there stonily and stared at him with a storm in her eyes.

"Okay, whatever you say," she whispered, and a hint of defeat seemed to creep up around her. Harry pulled his gaze away, hoping to dispel his own guilt.

* * *

Their footsteps reverberated loudly as they stepped out in the large empty area outside the dormitory. Harry breathed quick and shallow, his heart racing miles in his chest. The bright sunlight shone through the painted windows and seemed to cast a spotlight around his sorry body.

"I- okay, please promise not to freak out, alright?" Harry turned around, edgily eying his two best friends. Ron and Hermione took a curious glance at each other, one that was coloured with slight fear. They nodded in unison, glimmers of fright passing briefly through their faces.

Harry steeled his jaw and turned to a nearby pillar.

"You can stop hiding now," he called out. He heard Hermione draw an anticipatory breath, and he hoped desperately that she didn't think that he had brought in some rare magical specimen for her to set up an organization for.

Malfoy shifted deftly out from behind the pillar, a small blush tinging the apples of his cheeks as he edged towards Harry.

Ron wore the same expression that he had when he first saw Aragog.

" _What_?" he frowned as he aggressively took a few steps towards Malfoy.

"He's my friend now," Harry said quickly, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder worriedly, "Been a while."

From behind Ron, he gratefully noticed the small smile on Hermione's face. Ron's eyes were still darting between the two boys, as if trying to piece together the discrepancies in his own memory. His face was as flaming red as his mop of hair, and his breaths were quick and shallow.

"I- erm, Harry, so about Christmas-"

"Yeah, I spent it with him," Harry replied with the half-truth swiftly, "I mean, it would suck for anyone to spend that alone."

He heard Ron suck in an exaggeratedly large breath. On cue, Hermione pelted over and whispered something in his ear. Eyeing the hushed exchange, a slightly shamed look spilled over Malfoy's face. He shook his head at Harry and gestured that he was going to take his leave. Panicked, Harry grabbed his wrist tightly and jerked him back. At that moment, Ron looked up with a slightly hesitant look in his eyes.

Harry could tell Ron was struggling to not focus on the hand curled around Malfoy's pale wrist. That grip slackened considerably in surprise at his next words, however-

"Well, Harry, you could've just invited him over to the Burrow, y'know – it isn't like Mom's gonna try to kill him, right?"

There was a huge goofy grin plastered sincerely over Ron's face and Harry had to beam back at him for that. He felt Malfoy shift slightly next to him – there was an unspoken understanding in the air amongst all of them that _yes there is a high chance that Malfoy would leave the Burrow with a broken nose and the mark of a frying pan on his left cheek_ – but his fears dissipated into thin air as he heard the blond courteously reply, "I can't say I wouldn't have liked that, Weasley."

* * *

"Whoa – this place is still alive?" Ron called out in awe as they stepped into the refurbished Room of Requirement, craning his head up to look at the embellished tall ceilings. Harry saw Hermione stiffen at the sight of the huge Malfoy crest near the bed – a fear Malfoy was still completely oblivious to, being caught up in his own obvious discomfort with the three of them as a group. He sat himself at the furthest plush chair away from the three of them, watching them like a wary scared cat.

Awkwardly, Harry settled the two down and cleared his throat.

"Well, guys, now that introductions are over-"

"I think ferret- Malfoy- could sit a little closer," Ron interrupted.

"Why don't _you_ move closer?" Malfoy replied snootily, crossing his arms arrogantly.

"There's three of us here and one of you over there," Ron shrugged blandly.

"You're my guests here," Malfoy sneered.

"I-"

"Okay, okay!" Harry frowned at the both of them. He knew that exchange outside the Gryffindor dormitory was a little too good to be true. Getting up, he sat himself in the middle couch between both of his friends.

"Ron, Hermione, there's something else I wanted to tell you about," Harry said slowly. The two of them seemed to pick up on the seriousness of his voice; it was a tone that he had used in the more ominous periods of the War. Ron fell extremely silent and solemn.

"Malfoy's here too, because it involves him – but not in the same way as before," he continued, "There's something bad – really bad – going on in Azkaban. They've cut personal communications for a month, he hasn't heard from his father, and the Dementors are getting more aggressive. Last he heard, there are more Ministry guards. That's all we know though; we're waiting for Professor McGonagall to get back about his father."

There was a glint in Hermione's eye that seemed to spell _Restricted Section, library, I'll see you three in a day_.

"Dad heard rumours of that in his department," Ron said, squinting his eyes at Malfoy, "But it's all hush-hush, so he wasn't sure if the source was just some paranoia leftover from the War."

"Did you hear _anything_ about my father?" Malfoy asked urgently, trembling a little again.

"Nothing positive about his character, and nothing about his time in Azkaban," Ron said bluntly. Malfoy sighed into his hands.

"What did the rumours say, though?" Harry asked.

"'Bout the same as you two," he said, a pinch of regret in his voice for not being helpful.

"I thought the Dementors were removed from Azkaban after the War though," Hermione frowned. Harry stared at her for a moment, suddenly recalling the day he saw the news on the Prophet.

_Was Narcissa lying-?_

" _Most_ of Azkaban," Malfoy said quietly, "They recently placed them back for the few cells that hold the most prominent Death Eaters. Inhumanity to match inhumanity. No one in the public would complain about those conditions for _Death Eaters_ , anyway."

"If they're becoming more aggressive, that means _someone_ is ordering them," Hermione plowed on, "Either one of the Death Eaters, or- or we have a rat in the Ministry."

"Not Father," Malfoy quickly responded, "No, he wouldn't do this-"

"Calm down, no one's accusing any Malfoy yet," Ron scowled at the blond's theatrics.

"Why would Kingsley allow that, anyway?" Harry said, "It's not in his character."

"Probably a brief trial run, someone must have drafted a _wonderful_ letter to let that through," Malfoy said, eyes sliding off to look at the family crest.

"Then it sounds like a rat," Ron proclaimed firmly.

"Well-" Hermione started hesitantly, "What do we do with this information now?"

"If we go through an official channel, it might tip the guy off," Ron said, shutting off the easiest option.

"I-," Harry started, and he could see the looks on his friends' faces fall, "I think we should go find out who it is. Maybe just have a peek around, we don't have to start-"

"How about school though?" Hermione said, "There's still months to go before we complete our education!"

"Well we can't really sit around either-"Ron started.

"Someone's hero complex is really getting passed along, huh?" Malfoy said with a twitch in the corner of his mouth.

"Hey, now, you're going to eat those words when we save your father-"

_Tap, tap, tap_ -

The four of them spun their heads to look at the huge barn owl tapping furiously against the glass window. Its feathers were completely fluffed up and it seemed annoyed to have to be out on this cold Boxing Day.

"A letter for me-"Malfoy muttered with a dry mouth as he scrambled dizzily over to unhook the window.

"Doesn't get a lot of company, does he?" Ron snorted.

A loud yell sounded from Malfoy's spot at the window and a flustered flurry of wings sounded as the frightened owl took off into the blizzard-filled sky.

" _Father_ \- Father's been pardoned of all his crimes! He's returning home _tonight_!"

* * *

Harry's stomach did an uncomfortable flip at those words, and he could tell by the look on Ron and Hermione's faces that they weren't sure of what to feel about the news either. Malfoy was giddily swimming in elation as he flumped roughly onto the sofa next to Harry, grinning from ear to ear at the pardon letter.

"That- that's great, Draco," Hermione offered meekly. Her hands were twisting the fabric of her skirt niftily, and her nervousness was seeping through her skin.

"Yeah," Harry hesitantly added.

He had wanted to know that he would be capable of forgiving everyone after the War, especially the ones who eventually abandoned Voldemort's cause; but he knew too that he would never forget that night at the Manor, that murderous look in Lucius' pale eyes. The two Malfoys had left Voldemort's side to save their son, of course, but it didn't really mean that Lucius himself was – _good_ – did it?

"So you're not going to get involved in this anymore, huh?" Ron asked dully, his eyes peering over to judge Malfoy. Immediately, Malfoy looked up from the letter in his hands like a deer caught in the headlights. Harry knew that _he_ knew that his response would shape the way the two of them, and maybe Harry too, thought of him from now on.

"I…"

"Knew it," Ron said gruffly, "Don't blame you though."

Malfoy's face scrunched up for a moment, and he leaned forward, as if trying to prove something.

"I can ask Father about his time there," he said curtly, "My involvement afterwards? It depends. I'll be honest and not give you my word as of now."

Ron blinked at him, and Harry felt a little relieved. He would have liked a full commitment from Malfoy though, given all that they had gone through – but he supposed that this was a good first step. It was probably important to make sure it wasn't a Death Eater plot too before dragging Malfoy into it all.

"Thank you," Hermione smiled at Malfoy, "I'll go look at the library in the meanwhile."

Harry could see Malfoy's internal struggle at a Mudblood continuously addressing him courteously.

"Not a problem," Malfoy said, though the words seemed to come out more as a forced painful spit.

"Ron, perhaps you could ask Arthur again about the people in his department – the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" Hermione turned to Ron, and Harry was starting to feel like this was the second coming of Dumbledore's Army. The mulling storm over Ron's head seemed to dissipate at being addressed so chirpily by Hermione.

"Sure thing, 'mione," Ron beamed at his girlfriend, "I'll head down tomorrow and let you know as soon as I'm back."

* * *

Harry stayed back after his two friends left. Malfoy had drifted back to sit on his bed, humming contentedly to himself as he turned the letter over and over in his hands.

"Hey," Harry said, sitting next to Malfoy on the bed, "Feeling good, huh?"

Malfoy gave him a lazy smirk and draped himself over the soft pillows, "You think?"

"Right," Harry said, "So – I was thinking – maybe I could head over with you when you're meeting your father."

At that, Malfoy shot up abruptly and stared disconcertedly at him.

" _Why?_ And for what? I'm not going to be responsible if my parents are rude to you or chase you out," he sniffed, and Harry could feel the hedges coming up between them again.

"I just want to hear what he has to say about Azkaban," Harry frowned, "I can head out to sit on the porch" – Malfoy wrinkled his nose and mouthed _we have more than a porch_ – "when you are discussing personal matters."

"You don't trust me to convey his information to you in its entirety?" Malfoy questioned haughtily, stowing the letter safely into his bedside drawer. Harry's heart sank a little with the knowledge of the handful of truth in that question.

"I do," he half-lied, "But I am actually concerned for how he was treated in Azkaban too, given that it seems contrary to what Kingsley had promised to work out."

Malfoy looked at him with an expression that seemed to suggest that he knew Harry was lying somewhat. Placing his head upon his knees, he stared at Harry with wide thoughtful eyes.

"We're friends? Really?"

"Yes," Harry said that, a full force of certainty in his voice, "We are friends."

There appeared to be a small twinkle of disappointment in Malfoy's eyes. Confused, he decided that perhaps the blond needed further placating, and so awkwardly placed his hand on Malfoy's shoulder.

Giving that hand a sideway glance, Malfoy then turned back, wiping the sullen look off his face as he smirked at Harry.

"Why don't you ever call me Draco then, _Harry_?" he smiled, and he looked unnaturally like a Cheshire cat again. Harry's grip on his shoulder fumbled a little at the sudden use of his first name, but he swiftly regained his hold.

"I can start now, _Draco_."

* * *

The rest of the night was squandered by Harry slumping spinelessly against a large cushy chair, watching Draco sleep what had to be the most peaceful sleep he had had in months.

He was afraid of what they would find out; and the thought of meeting the elder Malfoy in the flesh again in the very place that had almost killed his friends and him made the blood run from his tired hands.

Desperately he tried to catch some sleep, but before he knew it, the sun broke over the horizon to fall over his dry swollen eyes. He wondered funnily if what lay ahead could still shine as bright as this morning.


	13. Cult Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Really, really sorry this took longer than usual, I got caught up with my thesis (again) and other scary real life stuff. I have some sketches of some scenes in this fic that I may eventually paint and post on my art/personal tumblr, will update on subsequent chapters if I have time to get around to that. And without further ado -

“It’s not too late to back out of this,” Draco whispered as he gathered his cloak around his shoulders on a disdainfully bright morning on the 27th of December, 1998.

“Do you want me to?” Harry hissed back, from the fifth attempt at trying to flatten his hair.

“Well, I-“ Draco paused mid-movement and pursed his lips.

“It’s not like whatever I say will change your decision anyway-“

“Oh, just get to the point,” Harry scowled, putting on his own cloak. Draco observed that action with a little peeved look on his face.

“ _Fine_. Just show respect and remember, it’s _Draco_ ,” Draco sullenly stuck out his tongue and strode off eagerly to the crackling fireplace, “I hereby pronounce myself non-responsible for any danger or harm that might come to you, Mr Potter.”

Harry flinched a small bit at those words, mind again wondering if he could _really_ trust Draco after all this time, if he wasn’t just going right into an elaborate scheme to kill him-

He sucked up his fears just as he had done so many times before though.

“Yeah, sure, _Draco_ , you can stop nagging at me like a tired married wife now,” Harry smirked as he took his place next to Draco in the Floo-tinged fire. Draco’s eyes widened at the insinuation and the tips of his ears glowed pink. His sharp mouth was opened, but before he could throw a barb at Harry, Harry grinned and bellowed,

“ _Malfoy Manor!”_

The high-pitched shriek next to him was enveloped swiftly by the swallowing flames.

* * *

“ _Harry Potter_.”

The raspy drawl echoed around the large room as Harry blinked the soot away from his eyes. He flinched inadvertently in fear. There was an unhealthy sheen of excitement in his travel partner’s eyes as the boy bounced out delightfully of the enormous fireplace.

“Father!”

Harry didn’t get to catch a good glance of Lucius’ face before Draco lunged forward in what had to be a very unorthodoxly non-Malfoy manner to embrace his father. Narcissa stood solemnly next to the hugging pair. Her face looked torn between painting an unfamiliar warm smile and keeping a solemn regularity in the unexpected presence of the Boy-Who-Lived.

“You brought a guest, Draco?” she questioned quietly, thin-lipped. Harry could barely match that nervous, slightly disdainful lady with the one that had so joyously welcomed him just two nights ago when he was masquerading as her son.

“Um…”

Draco turned around warily, and Harry found himself inadvertently preparing for danger again as he was met with three pairs of cold light eyes.

“He’s my friend now,” Draco said quietly. The words echoed distantly around the grand room. Lucius’ eyes flashed from behind his surprisingly sleek hair, strangely bright as the chandelier over their heads. Harry thought he saw a breath of a smile flicker past Narcissa’s face.

“Well then, Mr Potter,” Lucius stepped forward, gently pushing Draco behind him, “ _Where_ are my manners? Welcome to Malfoy Manor.”

There was a small hobble in Lucius’ step that he was hiding very well with his sturdy cane. He stopped just a few inches from Harry, towering over him and making him feel like he was 12, back in the bookshop at Diagon Alley. His face still tilted slightly upward as before, he gazed down at Harry. The angle made it impossible for Harry to see half of his pointed face as it was completely shrouded by his long blond hair.

Harry could see Draco fidgeting nervously from behind his father, as if wanting to make sure Harry wasn’t getting his face jinxed off. That comforted him a little, somewhat.

“Thank you,” Harry said, “Um, Mr Malfoy.”

There was a small _tsk_ and a smirk was drawn.

“Well, let us all take a seat at the table, no point dawdling around the fire,” Lucius called out, flourishing his cloak behind him as he turned in a way so reminiscent of Snape, “Unfortunately we don’t have house elves anymore.”

“I’ll get some tea and biscuits for us to eat,” Narcissa smiled at her husband, and quickly strode off. Draco looked at Lucius, then Harry, then to the cooking area (which probably looked a lot more welcoming at the moment than staying in the foggy tension). Something on his face told Harry that he was severely regretting his decision to allow Harry over.

“I – er- I’ll go assist Mother,” he whispered to Lucius, and practically fled to the cooking area.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly and took a seat some way down from the head of the table where Lucius comfortably sat.

“What brings you here, Mr Potter?” Lucius asked emotionlessly.

The excessive tinkling in the cooking area reminded Harry of frightened rats. He found it a little difficult to concentrate.

“I, well, I’ve been Mal-Draco’s friend for a good part of this year now, so I was pretty excited when I heard news of your pardon yesterday – so, so I thought it might be nice to come down to pay a visit-“

Harry internally hit himself on the head for stuttering so much. He was the hero of the War! The boy who saved this family from imminent death and destruction! _This man owed him his life_ and here he was stammering and letting this man walk all over him-

Lucius chuckled unexpectedly loudly.

“Mr Potter, that is a _very_ Pureblood thing to do!” he commented mildly as he brushed his hair out of his face. His face was still as symmetrical and unflawed as before – to Harry’s surprise, he had almost thought that there would be some huge deformity after the alleged Azkaban mistreatments.

“I’m not comfortable discussing Pureblood traditions, I didn’t mean to follow any of them,” Harry replied stiffly, feeling rather heckled at the thought that Lucius still saw the world in those lenses.

The corner of Lucius’ mouth twitched.

“It was a joke, Mr Potter,” he smiled oddly, “It just reminded me of how infatuated Pureblood boys tend to force themselves to attend the important events of their prospective family, even if it is unnecessary or very odd for them to be there-“

“I believe Muggles do that too, sir,” Harry quipped back irritably, feeling a blush creeping up his neck at the thought of Lucius imagining him to be some sort of courting suitor for Draco Malfoy.

“What brings you here?” Lucius replied, and his tone was deathly serious now, “What do you want, _Mr Potter_?”

Harry held his breath and stared back at him.

Beside him, he felt Draco’s slight tremble as he put the teacup near Harry’s right hand.

“I would like to know what the Ministry is doing to the Death Eaters in Azkaban.”

Lucius’ gaze on him wavered for a second to flicker to Narcissa’s confused face.

“How did you-“

“I told him, Father, I’m sorry, I was just so upset and I didn’t know who to-“

“ _Draco_ ,” Narcissa chided. Harry’s head was spinning with incredulity at Draco taking a pretty big arrow for him, and a tinge of amusement; it was Narcissa who told him after all, though he supposed she was not at fault-

“I’m bound by the terms of my pardon to say _nothing_ about it – nothing about what I saw or experienced,” Lucius said very quietly with his head bent, almost looking as if he would like to slink to a dark corner lest an Auror suddenly Apparate and take him away, “Say _nothing_ about this to anyone, especially your lot of friends, Potter. I might already be in grave- I might not be in a very favourable position now with the relevant parties, even with what little you said.”

Formalities had been dropped. Harry took a huge gulp, secretly despising himself for letting this recently-released ex-Death Eater strut out conditions to him. But he would take them, if only for Draco and Narcissa’s sake, and think about how to deal with his still-burning hero complex later.

“Yes, Mr Malfoy, I understand,” he replied, and he hoped his words didn’t sound as dry as his throat felt.

“I’ll see you back at Hogwarts, Draco?” he asked, putting his cloak back on. He wasn’t sure if that was disappointment in Draco’s eyes.

“Leaving so soon because you didn’t get what you want? That is quite rude, isn’t it?” Lucius half-sneered. His hand was locked firmly around Draco’s equally pale arm, as if not willing to let go of a precious possession to Harry. Harry didn’t want to think of the implications of those questions.

“I thought your family might enjoy some personal time with you, without a prying stranger,” Harry answered, and he was slightly taken aback with his eloquence this time around. Lucius appeared somewhat appeased. The three Malfoys watched him in eerie silence as he slowly shifted across the room and threw a good handful of Floo powder into their embellished fireplace. Turning around, his eyes locked with Draco’s bright, slightly hesitant ones. Draco was trembling a little, as if unsure of what to say.

“I’ll see you after lunch!” he blurted out just as the flames leapt up Harry’s shoes.

* * *

Harry’s stomach rumbled loudly as he looked over to the grandfather clock in the common room.

2.45pm.

“ _After lunch_ , he said,” he grumbled to himself, flopping like a dead fish onto the wooden desk.

_“Harry!”_

Hermione’s unmistakably excited voice called out from the fireplace. Gladly, he turned around to wave to his two friends clambering out of the Floo-tinged fire.

“Had lunch? You look like death,” Ron chortled as he roughly dusted the ash off his robes.

“ _No_ , you guys and Draco took forever-“

“He’s definitely Draco now, eh?”

Harry, gobsmacked, quickly clamped his mouth shut. His hands on the firm oak desk seemed to have abruptly turned cold for no reason.

“That’s alright, I guess,” Ron said lowly with a whistle, “Just checking. Who cares what I should call that little white ferret, eh, ‘mione?”

“Right,” Hermione said absent-mindedly, looking around the common room for potential eavesdroppers, “Perhaps we should head over to your friend’s room to see if he’s back and discuss there?”

“What- _oh!_ ” Harry slapped a hard hand onto his forehead, almost knocking his glasses off his face, “I totally- damn it, I forgot and thought he would Floo back here, but of course he can’t, he’s not a Gryffindor, Merlin, I-“

“Sheesh Potter, _stop_ whining, I think you’ve made me wait long enough,” Ron mimicked Draco’s nasal tone, ending his comment with an exaggerated hair flip and fluttering of eyelids.

“Merlin, he’s not _that_ big of a poof,” Harry scowled, though laughing.

“And you’d know so how?” Ron snorted, “Git hasn’t had a girlfriend besides that pug, Parkinson.”

Harry sighed internally, his face flushing a little as he recalled the night he had shared with Draco just less than a week ago.

“Guess I don’t really know anything yet,” he muttered to himself, following his friends out of the dormitory.

* * *

Draco’s door swung open to reveal an extremely bleary-eyed, but irritable blond.

“ _About time_ , Potter?” he whined in a tone that wasn’t too far from Ron’s impression.

Harry scowled and grumbled an apology and slid into the room past Draco. Ron’s distinct chuckle sounded behind him. There was a small scuffle and Harry hoped that was Hermione nudging Ron hard into his ribs.

* * *

After a few awkward starts and silences, Harry finally managed to get the conversation going.

“So Ron, you were saying your dad heard that it’s something to do with the Department of – Mysteries?”

“Yeah,” Ron replied, “Well, not really heard, I mean, he came across a document wrongly filed into his work folder – returned it as soon as he saw the security restriction level of course-“

“And they didn’t Obliviate him?” Draco asked pointedly. Ron stared daggers at him.

“Are you trying to suggest that my dad deserves torture-“ he retorted, despite Hermione’s tugging of his sleeve.

“No, I just thought it might be Ministry protocol; but maybe things have changed-“

“Not everyone is cruel as _your father_ , Malfoy, might I remind you what he did to my sister-“

“Father is – don’t you rub my family’s name into the mud, _Weasley_!”

“Mud? There’s nothing much left of your-“

“Alright, _STOP IT_!” Hermione yelled, glaring at the lot of them, “Either grow up and we figure out what to do, or we just drop this and return back to our studies.”

“I’m not sure if _he_ can be trusted,” Ron whined, tone suddenly more docile as he looked upon his fuming partner pleadingly.

There was another plummeting quiet as all three Gryffindors scrutinized Draco. A bright pink flush seeped across Draco’s skin. At the back of his mind, Harry was dimly aware that he found Draco’s surprisingly coy reaction a tiny _tiny_ bit endearing.

“He can,” Harry said after a long while, with a short smile flickering across his face. Draco stared back at him, as if the words had come out from a dream, trying to hide the small wonder blooming in his eyes.

“I know we will be fine together.”

Ron whistled suggestively and Hermione flung a hard kick into his shins, causing him to double over in pain.

“Well, _Mr Weasley_ , what did the form say? How big is the thing at Azkaban?” Hermione asked, pointedly redirecting the conversation back.

“It’s basically a project by a small collaborative team from the Department of Mysteries and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. ‘Facility testing’ for higher-end, more dangerous criminals, it said, or something like that,” Ron muttered sulkily, rubbing his sore leg.

“Facility testing?” Draco asked skittishly.

“Like, where to keep the worst of the lot, I guess, maybe they need more security or something,” Ron shrugged, a look of annoyance dawning on his face again.

“But _Dementors_ again? After what happened the last time? And why in Merlin would the Department of _Mysteries_ be involved? Also, how bad is it? First, Narcissa said the whole of Azkaban is falling apart, McGonagall won’t say anything and now we hear that maybe it’s just a small project?” Harry frowned, words just spilling haphazardly out of his mind as he thought out loud fervently. Hermione slumped uncharacteristically limply back on the sofa, looking overwhelmed just running through the same train of thought as Harry.

“Don’t ask me,” Ron shook his head as if clearing his mind from that rush, and held up his hands in innocence, “That’s all I got. Now – what should we do with this information?”

A heavy silence grew around the four of them.

“If it’s just a small project, shouldn’t we – keep, um, keep out of it? “ Hermione hesitated, “Well, it’s all pure Ministry business, right? I mean, it’s not anything Dark, and I’m sure they’re all keeping close tabs on the project…”

Draco blanched.

“Father needs a cane to walk around now.”

“Hasn’t he always?” Ron half-sneered.

Glancing back testily at Ron, Draco replied simply, “A cane to actually walk. Not as embellishment for his outfits.”

“He’s not the only one who’s become physically disabled in some way after the whole War fiasco- “Ron started.

“Maybe we could just go check,” Harry anxiously blurted out. He was dimly aware of the growing desire at the back of his mind to crush out the brewing hostility in the atmosphere. Ron and Hermione looked in slight disbelief at him. The setting late afternoon sun cast shadows too shallow to hide the disappointment on their faces.

“I’m not sure- I mean, we still have the essays for Potions and Charms to clear, not to mention- “Hermione rattled on, twisting the hem of her skirt.

“I’m just not sure if it’s worth the trouble,” Ron said calmly as he leaned back onto his couch, “Like ‘mione said, sounds like a contained and managed project, I don’t really want to get arrested for breaking into the Ministry again – and this time probably for nothing-“

There was a loud shuffle of polished shoes on the sleek carpet immediately. Harry’s gaze shot up from his hands on his lap to an infuriated Draco.

“Fine!” Draco hissed with surprising viciousness at them, “I don’t need any of you to help! I’ll go there and find my own answers – don’t sit around and waste my time and make my decisions for me with your overweight egos!”

Aggressively, Draco stepped forward, fists clenched and hair slightly ruffled from his rant. His anger seemed to glow off his pale skin.

“ _Leave_!” he shrieked, stomping his foot hard on the ground as if squelching out a rotting carcass of a bug.

Ron stood up and stormed up to Draco, staring down at the blond. For a moment, Harry thought that his friend was going to spit onto the other boy’s face. The gob of spit was directed dangerously close enough to him in the end, shot just next to Draco’s shiny black leather shoes. Hermione shot Harry a swift apologetic glance as she left.

Rounding on Harry, Draco glared at him with eyes shimmering precariously.

“And- and you?” he asked, his eyebrows still creased but his tone less steady than before.

Harry, slumped despondently in his seat, looked up in fatigue at the blond. He distantly wished that one of them would have the good sense to close the windows tighter now, because the wind was blowing so hard against the glass now and the whistling was giving him as much grief as this disparate situation.

“Sit down here and let’s just talk this through, alright?” he sighed, patting the seat next to him on the soft couch.

Draco mumbled something jumbled in return. But he sat down without a fight.

* * *

“You don’t have to get involved,” Draco repeated tiredly for the fifth time.

“I _want_ to,” Harry replied tersely, gripping Draco’s right hand on impulse, “It’s just going to be a quick thing anyway; sneak in, swig some Polyjuice down, check the documents, and head out. That’s all you want, right, to know what happened to your father?”

“Knowing you, it’s going to turn into a year-long operation against something evil, even if you say otherwise,” Draco whined. Reluctance was strewn all over his pale face, but he did not shrug his hand out of Harry’s clasp.

“ _It won’t_ ,” Harry said, “Don’t you trust me?”

Draco stared back at him, thin-lipped as if frightened that he had disappointed Harry in some way. Harry nudged him gently, and offered a pinky finger with the most serious expression that he could muster. The tension seemed to deflate from Draco as he snorted at that asinine Muggle gesture.

“Well, thank you,” he mumbled. Gratitude still appeared to be somewhat of a discomforting obstacle for him. His cheeks flushed. Harry smiled back generously in response.

“Let’s meet here at 8am tomorrow, get a headstart and finish this early?”

“Alright,” Draco hastily replied, hesitation still trailing behind in his words. He took a sharp loud breath.

“I don’t-“, he started, and Harry watched in slight enchantment as the pink blush blossomed to the tips of the pale boy’s ears. It made him look exceedingly like a glowing ice sculpture.

“It’s what friends do, Draco,” Harry grinned sincerely as he withdrew his hand from Draco’s, giving it a final pat. Draco observed the action with an unreadable look on his face. Quickly, his thin hand snapped up and tugged Harry’s hand back in slight urgency. He opened his mouth, but then shut it awkwardly and let go of Harry’s hand as he slid back into the sofa tiredly.

Harry felt his head whir a little in excitement. He decided to tell Draco that he would stay in for a bit longer to relax, but he found, fifteen minutes later, no real calm in his speeding mind as he watched the pale boy next to him with increasing fascination.

* * *

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning with Draco,” Harry announced confidentially to his two friends that night, “I’ll see you guys in the evening or so, alright? It should be really quick.”

Ruffling his hair roughly, Ron eyed him with a perplexed expression on his freckled face.

“I wasn’t coerced,” Harry emphasized. Ron hung his head, avoiding eye contact, and nodded. Beside him, Hermione looked a little more appeased.

“Please do stay safe, Harry,” Hermione chided gently, placing a kindly right hand on his shoulder.

“You know I will,” he reaffirmed her. He heard Ron shuffle in his seat. Moments later, two very familiar shiny Galleons were pressed insistently into Harry’s palm. He stared at them in mild confusion, wondering why his friends seemed to have a complete change of heart from that heated afternoon.

“’Mione here talked some things through with me,” Ron said, scrunching up his face as he scratched the back of his head in some embarrassment, “I mean, we- we still don’t want to get involved, but raging at you for deciding to help that little ferret friend of yours out for a bit- well-“

“We just want you to know that you’re still our friend, and that we’ll _always_ be here for you,” Hermione said, and her eyes appeared to mist for a brief second, “Even- even if our decisions don’t match up as perfectly as they used to do.”

Ron grinned crookedly as the three of them gazed fixatedly at the glimmering magical coins sitting snugly in Harry’s warm hand. Hermione’s master coin from Dumbledore’s Army and Ron’s own coin – they felt, as they did before, like a safe promise of support and better days.

“Yeah,” Harry looked up, beaming at his friends, “Yeah, I do know.”

“Use them well,” Hermione said tentatively, with pride creeping into her voice at the sight of arguably her best magical handiwork as of yet. Ron nodded along eagerly, anxious blue eyes watching Harry now.

“We’ve all been through far worse,” Harry comforted his friends as he stood up, sliding the two coins into his deepest pocket, “I’ll see you two tomorrow, I’m sure of it.”

* * *

The next morning, Harry drew a circle slowly around the date of 28th December, 1998 in his pocket calendar while the sun was still asleep somewhere beyond the horizon. Harry shut his eyes again wearily, some dread in his heart and wishing that he could just stay in for today.

* * *

“Take this,” Draco drawled with just a hint of fatigue in his voice, shoving a flask of Polyjuice Potion clumsily into Harry’s hands. Dark circles lined his faintly excited silver eyes like muddy kohl.

“Didn’t sleep well?” Harry asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice.

“Rather-rather exhilarated to find out what they did, to find the truth,” Draco rambled, sounding somewhat like someone on a caffeine high. His hands were trembling in the cold rising sun. Harry bit his lip and assisted him in wrapping his black cloak around himself. He clasped on a nice-looking silver brooch near Draco’s thin neck and smoothed the cloak to sit properly on the boy’s shoulders. The slight blush on Draco’s cheeks suggested that his kindness did not go unnoticed.

“And you – take this too,” Harry muttered, fighting back the spreading smile on his face. He pressed the Master coin into Draco’s soft palm.

Draco cocked his head at the coin in bemusement, as if he were a cat eyeing a new toy mouse.

“Granger’s little invention,” he mouthed, “I saw one of the students with the servant coin in the fifth year. Dumbledore’s Army, hmm?”

Harry secretly hoped against hope that he wouldn’t go on to rant about useless Mudbloods and filthy students who didn’t know how to respect a Prefect.

He didn’t.

_Thank Merlin._

“Thank you, Harry,” Draco said quietly, pocketing the coin with great care. Harry’s heart swelled in pleasure despite his restraint.

“No problem. Do use it, please, if you get into trouble later,” Harry advised worriedly.

“And you?” Draco asked blatantly, “What if your potion runs out and you get caught, or something?”

Harry gritted his teeth.

“I’ll- Well my name does help,” he said awkwardly, “You’re the one who’s going to be in a lot more trouble if you get caught.”

Draco beamed surprisingly, an odd look on his usually stern face, probably at Harry’s honesty and acknowledgment of their disparity in status. Harry hadn’t really thought much of it, but okay – if it made Draco happy-

“Let’s go,” the blond called, stepping into the fire without very much fear around him.

Harry stepped in without hesitation this time. They locked eyes for a quick second as the flames engulfed them to send them away, and Harry found himself drawing Draco slightly closer with a hand on that sharp shoulder.

* * *

They landed in a rusty old fireplace in a worn house sat on a dingy street too painfully familiar to Harry. Dust particles drifted lazily throughout the air, and the house smelled like it hadn’t been washed in the past century. Out of the grime-covered window, Harry saw the unmistakable bright red telephone box. It jutted out of the dirty pavement like a swollen sore thumb.

“Empty, good,” Draco muttered, slowly peeking out from behind Harry’s shoulder. Harry couldn’t hold back his bark of laughter. It echoed jarringly around the house, and he felt Draco flinch behind him like a frightened cat.

“Save that stealth for when we’re trying to mug someone to be our Polyjuice victim.”

Draco scowled at him, immediately letting go of Harry’s shoulders as if poisoned. As if demonstrating that he still was not scared of the situation, he sashayed obnoxiously in front, putting in extra effort to fling his cloak with every step. Harry rolled his eyes, snorted, and followed him out onto the street.

The two of them clambered into the telephone box, finding it a bit of a tight fit. Harry could hear Draco’s breathing pick up, and he was pretty sure that his had too. He was also vaguely aware of Draco’s body pressing a little against his side. Without thinking, he lifted his arm and placed it around Draco’s shoulder again, as he did in the fireplace. There was a swift moment where Draco looked at him with that familiar unreadable expression.

“Ready, for real?” Harry breathed. The stale air in the box was starting to suffocate him and his scarf wasn’t helping very much with his increasing light-headedness. Draco looked firmly ahead and wheezed a quiet okay.

Shakily, Harry picked up the phone and pressed his gloved fingers to the cold buttons to enter the number to the Ministry.

_6-2-4-4-2._


End file.
